. 


. 


THE  HAUNTED  PAJAMAS 


THE  HAUNTED  PAJAMAS 


The 
Haunted    Pajamas 


BY 
FRANCIS   PERRY    ELLIOTT 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

EDMUND  FREDERICK 


NEW    YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1911 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


TO 
MY  WINIFRED 


8135480 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

I  A  PRESENT  FROM  CHINA I 

II  AN  OMINOUS  DISCOVERY 9 

III  I  DON  THE  PAJAMAS 20 

IV  JENKINS  DECLARES  FOR  THE  WATER  WAGON    .  29 
V  THE  GIRL  FROM  RADCLIFFE         .        .  36 

VI  ARCADIAN  SIMPLICITY 50 

VII  CONFIDENCES 58 

VIII  HER  BROTHER  JACK 74 

IX  AN  AMAZING  REVELATION 84 

X  A  NOCTURNAL  INTRUSION 95 

XI  IRON  NERVE 106 

XII  I  SEND  A  MAN  TO  JAIL 112 

XIII  FRANCES 122 

XIV  "You  NEVER  SAW  ME  IN  BLACK"        .        .       .  129 
XV  BILLINGS'  SYMPTOMS  ALARM  ME          .        .       .  141 

XVI  AN  INSCRIPTION  AND  A  MYSTERY         .        .       .  149 

XVII  THE  PROFESSOR 155 

XVIII  I  RECEIVE  A  SHOCK 167 

XIX  THE  SPELL  OF  THE  PAJAMAS         ....  176 

XX  BILLINGS  RAMBLES 184 

XXI  THE  COLLAPSE  OF  BILLINGS         ....  190 

XXII  MY  DARLING  Is  SLANDERED         ....  200 

XXIII  A  MESSAGE  AND  A  WARNING        ....  211 

XXIV  I  SPEAK  TO  HER  FATHER 222 

XXV  THE  FAMILY  BLACK  SHEEP 234 


CONTENTS— Continued 

•CHAPTER  PACK 

XXVI    FLORA 245 

XXVII    I  RECOVER  THE  PAJAMAS 257 

XXVIII    "IF  I  EVER  FIND  A  MAN!"         .        .       .       .272 

XXIX    "BECAUSE  You— ARE  You"        ....  283 

XXX    THE  JUDGE  FIXES  "FoxY  GRANDPA"       .       .  298 

XXXI    THE  DEMON  RUM 313 

XXXII    I  TOUCH  BOTTOM 324 

XXXIII  UNDER  THE  PERGOLA 332 

XXXIV  THE  CUB 342 

XXXV    IN  THK  GLOW  OF  THE  RUBIES    ....  350 


THE  HAUNTED  PAJAMAS 


CHAPTER  I 

A    PRESENT    FROM    CHINA 

IT  was  the  first  thing  I  saw  that  night  as  I  swung 
into  my  chambers.  Fact  is,  for  the  moment,  it 
was  the  only  thing  I  saw.  Somehow,  its  splash  of 
yellow  there  under  the  shaded  lamp  seemed  to  catch 
my  eye  and  hold  it. 

I  screwed  my  glass  tight  and  examined  the  thing 
with  interest.  Nothing  remarkable;  just  a  tiny,  ob 
long  package,  bearing  curious  foreign  markings,  its 
wrapper  plainly  addressed  to  me,  but — 

"By  Jove!   From  China!"  I  ejaculated. 

Somebody  in  far-off  China  sending  me  a  present, 
with  duties  and  charges  prepaid  evidently. 

What  the  deuce  was  it?  I  shook  it  without  get 
ting  any  revelation ;  then  I  weighed  it  in  my  hand. 

The  thing  was  devilish  light!  In  fact,  so  light 
that,  allowing  for  outside  wrapper  and  box,  dashed 
if  I  could  see  how  there  was  anything  at  all. 

Then  I  had  an  awful  thought:  Suppose,  by  Jove, 
i 


2  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

they  had  forgotten  to  inclose  the  thing — whatever 
it  was!  Jolly  tiresome,  that,  if  they  had.  I  felt 
devilish  annoyed. 

Really,  awfully  provoking  to  do  that  sort  of 
thing,  you  know;  and  I  was  jolly  sure  now  the 
dashed  thing  had  been  wrapped  up  empty.  I  won 
dered  what  silly  ass  I  knew  in  China  who  would  be 
likely  to  do  a  thing  like  that.  I  couldn't  think  of  any 
one  at  all  I  knew  in  China,  so  I  rang  for  Jenkins. 

"Anybody  I  know  in  China,  Jenkins?"  I  asked. 
And  to  help  him  out,  I  added  :  "Fact  is,  some  chap's 
sent  me  a  package,  you  know." 

"Name  on  box,  sir,  perhaps."  Said  it  offhand, 
just  like  that — no  trouble  of  thinking,  dash  it  all — 
never  even  blinked.  Just  instinct,  by  Jove ! 

And  there  it  was,  nicely  printed  in  the  corner 
with  a  pen : 

ROLAND  MASTERMANN,  GOVERNMENT  HOUSE, 
HONG  KONG,  CHINA 

I  read  it  aloud — can't  read  anything,  you  know, 
unless  I  read  it  aloud — and  looked  at  Jenkins  in 
quiringly.  But  he  came  right  up  to  the  scratch ;  just 
seemed  to  get  it  from  somewhere  right  out  of  the 
wall  over  my  head : 

"Beg  pardon,  sir;  but  think  it's  that  London  gen 
tleman — entertained  you  at  the  Carlton  when  you 
were  over  the  other  side." 

Mastermann !  By  Jove,  so  it  was — I  began  to  re 
member  him  now,  because  I  remembered  his  dinner, 


A    PRESENT    FROM    CHINA  3 

several  of  them,  in  fact,  during  the  three  years  I 
had  lived  over  there,  acquiring  the  English  accent — 
manner,  you  know — and  all  that  sort  of  thing! 

Mastermann — oh,  yes,  I  had  him,  now!  Jolly 
rum  old  boy,  but  entertaining  and  clever — long  hair, 
pink  wart  on  jaw!  And,  by  Jove,  I  had  promised 
him — promised  him — what  the  deuce  was  it  I  had 
promised  him?  Let  me  see:  he  was  something  or 
other  in  the  foreign  office ;  yes,  I  had  that — and  tre 
mendously  interested  in  mummies  and  psychical  in 
vestigation  and  rum  sort  of  things  like  that,  and — 

"By  Jove!"  I  ejaculated,  as  it  came  to  me.  "And 
for  that  reason  he  wanted  them  to  send  him  out  to 
China." 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,"  put  in  Jenkins,  "but  think 
you  had  a  letter  with  a  Chinese  postmark  last  week." 

He  looked  around  at  my  little  writing-desk  and 
coughed  slightly  behind  his  hand. 

"Was  just  a-wondering,  sir,  if  it  might  not  be 
among  those  you  haven't  opened — there  are  several 
piles.  If  I  might  look,  sir — " 

I  nodded.  Fact  is,  I  allow  Jenkins  much  privi 
lege,  owing  to  long  service.  Then,  you  know — oh, 
dash  it,  he's  so  original — so  refreshing  and  that  sort 
of  thing — so  surprising.  Just  as  in  this  case,  he 
thinks  of  so  many  devilishly  ingenious,  out-of-the- 
way  sort  of  things ! 

It  was  Jenkins'  idea  that  I  find  out  what  was  in 
the  box  by  just  opening  the  dashed  thing  while  he 
looked  for  the  letter. 


4  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

Clever  that,  eh  ?  Well,  rather ! 

So  I  unsheathed  my  little  pocket  manicure  knife, 
cut  the  strings  and  removed  the  wrapper.  Inside 
was  just  a  little,  straw-covered  box  with  a  telescope 
cover  and  inside  the  box,  wrapped  in.  tissue,  was  a 
tight  roll  of  bright  red  silk. 

That  was  all — not  another  thing  but  this  little  silk 
roll.  It  was  a  wad  as  thick  as  three  fingers  and  per 
haps  twice  as  long,  tied  with  a  bit  of  common  string, 
ending  in  a  loose  bowknot 

I  gripped  my  glass  a  bit  tighter  in  my  eye  and 
took  a  long  shot  at  the  thing.  But  dashed  if  I  could 
make  anything  out  of  it  at  all.  You  see,  the  string 
went  around  it  at  least  three  or  four  times.  Such 
a  devilish  secretive  way  to  fix  a  thing,  don't  you 
think  ? 

A  queer,  sweet,  spicy  sort  of  odor  swept  past  me; 
that  reminded  me  of  the  atmosphere  at  Santine's> 
and  places  in  the  Metropolitan  Art  Museum.  I  sat 
down,  the  better  to  think  it  over,  turning  the  little 
roll  in  my  hand  and  trying  to  think  of  all  the  thing* 
it  might  be. 

"Looks  like  it  might  be  a  red  silk  muffler,  Jen 
kins,"  I  exclaimed  in  disgust.  By  Jove,  I  was  never 
so  devilish  disappointed  in  my  life — never — I'm 
sure  of  it!  If  I  had  been  a  girl  I  should  have  cried 
— dash  it,  I  know  I  should. 

I  pinched  the  roll  gloomily. 

"If  it's  a  red  silk  muffler,  Jenkins,  catch  me  wear 
ing  it,  that's  all!"  I  burst  out  indignantly.  "Rotten1 


A    PRESENT    FROM    CHINA  5 

"bad  form,  if  you  ask  me.   I'd  look  like  an  out-and- 
out  bounder!" 

Then  I  had  a  horrible  thought : 
''Or — or  the  Salvation  Army,  dash  it !" 
Here  Jenkins  thrust  a  letter  at  me.   "Perhaps  this 
may  explain  it,  sir,"  he  suggested. 

Sure  enough,  it  was  from  Hong  Kong,  and  from 
that  chap,  Mastermann.  Out  there  on  special  mission 
for  his  government,  he  said.  I  don't  know  what  it 
was — never  did  know,  in  fact,  for  I  skipped  down 
to  this  paragraph,  which  I  read  aloud  : 

"Every  puff  of  those  rare  cigars  you  sent  me  has 
but  reminded  me  that  my  debt  to  you  is  still  un 
paid." 

I  read  thus  far ;  then  I  read  it  again.  But  I  could 
make  nothing  of  it. 

"Cigars — cigars?"  I  exclaimed,  puzzled. 

Then  I  forgot  the  letter  as  I  stared  at  Jenkins. 

"And  what's  the  matter  with  you?"  I  demanded. 

For  I  had  caught  him  with  his  hand  over  his 
mouth,  obviously  trying  to  suppress  a  chuckle.  He 
sobered  instantly,  but  seemed  embarrassed  for  a 
reply. 

"Oh,  I  say,  you  know !"  I  urged  him. 

He  started  to  speak,  then  pulled  up.  His  breath 
went  out  in  a  sort  of  sigh.  And  he  just  stood  there 
looking  at  me,  and  looking  kind  of  scared. 

Fact!  Perfectly  irreproachable  service  for  five 
years ;  and  now  here,  dash  it,  showing  emotion  and 


6  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

that  sort  of  thing,  just  like — well,  like  people,  by 
Jove!  Gad,  I  don't  mind  saying  I  was  devilish  put 
out !  I  screwed  my  glass  rather  severely  and  he  made 
another  go : 

"I  hope,  Mr.  Lightnut,  sir,  you'll  try  to  pardon 
me,  sir,  but  I —  Well,  indeed,  sir,  the  mistake  wasn't 
mine;  it  was  the  dealer's  fault,  you  know,  sir." 

"Oh!" 

I  stared,  polished  my  glass  and  nodded.  I  even 
chirped  up  a  smile,  but  I  didn't  utter  a  word.  Dash 
it,  what  was  there  to  say  ?  But  you  mustn't  let  them 
know  that,  you  know.  So  I  just  waited,  and  he 
squirmed  a  little  and  went  on : 

"It  was  too  late  after  he  told  me  about  the  mis 
take  ;  and  I  was — well,  I  was  afraid  to  mention  it  to 
you,  sir." 

"Mistake!  What  mistake ?" 

He  gulped;  dashed  if  I  didn't  think  he  was  going 
to  choke. 

"I — I'm  sure,  sir,  I  wouldn't  have  had  such  a  thing 
happen  for — 

I  could  stand  it  no  longer. 

"Oh,  I  say!  I  haven't  any  idea  what  you're  talk 
ing  about !" 

Jenkins  cleared  his  throat  with  an  effort,  his  eyes 
rolling  at  me  apologetically.  When  he  spoke  there 
was  a  tremble  in  his  utterance,  and  it  was  rather 
husky : 

"Why,  sir,"  he  began  in  a  low  tone,  "you  told  me 
to  have  your  dealer  ship  this  gentleman,  this  Mr. 


A    PRESENT    FROM    CHINA  7 

Mastermann,  a  dozen  boxes  of  Paloma  perfectos — 
your  favorite  brand,  you  know,  sir — ninety  dollars 
the  hundred." 

He  paused,  his  fingers  resting  tremblingly  on  the 
edge  of  the  table. 

"I  dare  say,"  I  yawned  presently.  "Well,  what  of 
it?"  I  was  getting  impatient.  By  Jove,  he  was  mak 
ing  me  downright  nervous,  don't  you  know!  Be 
sides,  I  was  so  devilish  anxious  to  get  on  with  Mas- 
termann's  letter.  I  wanted  to  find  out,  if  possible, 
what  it  was  the  fellow  had  sent  me. 

Jenkins  breathed  hard  and  leaned  toward  me. 
Then  he  seemed  to  flunk  again  and  dropped  back. 
Dashed  if  I  didn't  think  I  heard  him  groan!  But  I 
stared  at  him  through  my  glass,  and  he  swallowed 
hard  and  went  on : 

"An  error,  sir,  of  the  shipping  clerk.   He — " 

With  a  murmured  apology,  Jenkins  paused  to 
•vvipe  his  forehead.  I  saw  that  the  perspiration  had 
gathered  in  great  drops.  Then  he  seemed  to  gather 
himself  for  a  resolute  effort,  his  eyes  fixing  them 
selves  upon  me  with  the  most  extraordinary  expres 
sion — kind  of  half-frightened,  half -desperate  glare 
—that  sort  of  thing,  don't  you  know.  I  began  to 
feel  devilish  uncomfortable  and  edged  away. 

And  he  made  another  plunge :   "They  sent  him — 

And,  dash  me  if  he  didn't  stick  again!  It  just 
looked  like  he  couldn't  get  past.  But  I  encouraged 
him — just  like  you  have  to  do  a  horse,  you  know — 
and  this  time  he  got  over : 


8  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"They  sent  him  a  dozen  boxes  of  'Hickey's  Pride/ 
sir,  instead!" 

He  spoke  in  a  low,  choking  voice  and  looked  me 
full  in  the  eye — the  kind  of  look  you  get  when  a 
chap's  boxing  with  you,  you  know — that  sort  of 
thing. 


CHAPTER  II 

AN  OMINOUS  DISCOVERY 

T  WAS  puzzled. 

"  'Rickey's  Pride  ?'  "  I  repeated  thoughtfully. 
"I  don't  seem  to  recall  that  one.  Do  I  smoke  it 
often?" 

Jenkins  seemed  to  gasp. 

"You?    Certainly  not,  sir!    Never!" 

And,  by  Jove,  he  turned  pale!  Anyhow,  he 
looked  devilish  queer  as  he  put  his  hands  down  on 
the  table  and  bent  to  whisper : 

"Mr.  Lightnut,  sir —  And  the  way  he  dropped 
his  voice  and  turned  his  head  to  peer  around  into 
the  corners  was  just  creepy!  That's  what,  creepy! 
This,  with  the  glow  from  the  green  lampshade  on 
his  pale  face  as  he  leaned  across  the  table — oh,  it 
was  something  ghastly — awful,  you  know!  It  got 
on  my  nerves,  and  I  could  feel  the  hair  slowly  rising 
on  each  side  of  my  part.  He  bent  close,  whispering 
behind  his  hand,  and  I  knew  he  had  been  eating  rad 
ishes  for  dinner: 

"It's  what's  known  in  the  trade,  sir,  as  a  'two- 
fer.'  " 

"A  'twofer!'  "  I  repeated,  puzzled. 

9 


io  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Two  for  five,  sir."  Jenkins  spoke  faintly.  "I'm 
sure  I'm  ashamed  to  mention  to  a  perfect  gen — " 

"By  Jove,  /  know!"  I  lifted  my  ringer  suddenly. 
"I  know  now  the  kind  you  mean — big,  fat,  greasy- 
looking  ones — the  sort  Vanderdecker  and  Colonel 
Boylston  smoke  over  at  the  club."  I  shook  my  head. 
"Too  jolly  thick  and  heavy  for  me.  So  they're  two 
for  a 'V— eh?  Oh,  I  see— 'twofers !'  By  Jove!" 

A  brand  new  one,  this — a  ripper!  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  spring  it  on  the  fellows  first  chance — 
that  is,  if  I  could  remember  the  jolly  thing.  I  just 
looked  at  Jenkins'  solemn  face  and  laughed. 

"Oh,  I  say,  Jenkins — hang  the  expense,  you 
know!"  I  remonstrated  in  some  disgust.  For  this 
London  chap  had  given  me  no  end  of  a  good  time, 
you  know;  and  it's  such  devilish  bad  form — rotten, 
I  say — haggling  about  expense  when  you  want  to 
make  a  come-back  and  do  the  handsome.  I  was 
jolly  glad  the  mistake  had  happened. 

Just  here  I  remembered  the  letter  and  went  at  it 
again,  for  I  was  keen  to  find  out,  if  possible,  if  it 
was  a  muffler  under  the  string.  So  I  fixed  my  glass 
and  read  on : 

"Realizing  what  these  cigars  are,  I  have  given 
them,  from  time  to  time,  to  friends  of  mine — and 
others.  Really,  I  don't  think  I  ever  had  such  un 
selfish,  unalloyed  pleasure  from  anything  in  my 
life.  Gave  one  to  a  bus  driver  out  Earl's  Court  way 
— chap  who  had  never  been  known  to  speak  to  man, 
woman  or  child  in  years,  and,  after  he  lighted  it — 


AN    OMINOUS    DISCOVERY  n 

well,  my  word !     He  opened  up  and  grew  so  bally 
•loquacious  I  had  to  get  off." 

"By  Jove!"  I  exclaimed. 

I  felt  real  pleased — that  kind  of  fizzy  glow — sort 
of  bubbling-champagney- feeling  you  get,  you  know, 
whenever  a  friend  does  some  clever,  unexpected 
thing — like  repaying  a  loan,  for  instance.  Know 
about  that,  because  I  had  it  happen  to  me  once. 
Fact! 

"See  that,  Jenkins?"  I  said  with  a  little  triumph. 

I  wanted  to  reassure  him,  for  I  could  see  with  half 
an  eye  that  the  poor  fellow  was  devilish  plucked 
about  the  expense.  And  Jenkins  certainly  looked 
regularly  bowled  over. 

I  read  on : 

"Had  been  trying  to  get  Jorgins,  my  chief,  to 
send  me  out  here  again  to  China,  but  he  was  ever 
finding  some  cold,  beastly  evasion.  But  when  your 
package  came  to  the  office,  the  first  thing  I  did  after 
I  had  tried  the  cigars  was  to  hand  the  old  iceberg  a 
box  with  my  compliments. 

"Five  minutes  after,  he  came  back,  completely 
thawed  out.  Fact  is,  never  saw  him  so  warm  to 
ward  any  one.  Asked  me  if  the  other  boxes  were  to 
be  given  away  outside.  Said  no;  that  his  was  the 
only  box  I  could  spare;  was  going  to  keep  'em  all 
there  at  the  office  and  smoke  'em  myself.  Never 
saw  a  man  so  moved — so  worked  up  over  a  little 
thing.  Next  day  he  sent  me  out  here  to  China." 

"Coals  of  fire!"  I  ejaculated  admiringly.  "Reg 
ular  out-and-out  coals  of  fire,  by  Jove!" 


12  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"And  so  I  have  been  looking  about  since  I  have 
been  out  here,  trying  to  find  something  as  rare, 
unique  and  full  of  surprises  for  your  friends  as  your 
cigars  have  been  for  mine.  I  have  found  it." 

"And  devilish  handsome  of  him,  Jenkins,  eh?"  I 
commented  gratefully;  and  I  looked  with  renewed 
interest  at  the  little  roll  in  my  hand.  Jove,  how  I 
wished,  though,  he  would  come  to  the  point  and  say 
what  it  was ! 

"You  know  what  a  curiously  upside-down  people 
the  Chinese  are.  Example,  they  begin  dinner  with 
desert  and  end  with  soup;  they  drink  hot,  acid  bev 
erages  in  summer  instead  of  iced  ones;  they  write 
from  right  to  left,  vertically,  while  we  write  from 
left  to  right,  horizontally;  they  mourn  in  white  in 
stead  of  black,  and  they  are  awfully  honest  and  pay 
their  debts. 

"But  there  is  one  other  point  of  difference  still 
queerer :  they  wear  pajamas  all  day,  while  we  wear 
them  only  at  night." 

Here  I  yawned.  Always  hate  that  heavy,  histor 
ical,  instructive  stuff,  you  know.  If  you  have  to 
hear  it,  gives  you  headache,  unless  you  can  slip  off 
to  sleep  first. 

So  I  reached  the  letter  up  to  Jenkins. 

"Just  run  over  the  rest  of  it  yourself,  and  see  if 
he  says  anything  about  his  present,"  I  said,  settling 
comfortably.  Clever  idea  of  mine,  don't  you  think? 

And  I  was  just  dropping  my  head  to  have  a  snug 
little  nap — just  a  little  forty,  you  know — when, 


AN    OMINOUS    DISCOVERY  13 

dash  me,  if  I  didn't  have  another  idea!  Awfully  an 
noying,  time  like  that. 

Mind  is  so  devilish  alert,  dash  it !  Always  doing 
things  like  that ;  can't  seem  to  get  over  it,  you  know. 
And  this  ripping  idea  that  bobbed  up  now  and  got 
me  all  roused  up  was  nothing  more  or  less  than  to 
untie  the  string  myself  and  see  what  the  thing  was. 
See? 

"I  believe,  sir,"  said  Jenkins,  looking  up,  "the 
gentleman  has  sent  you — h'm — has  sent  you — 

"By  Jove,  a  suit  of  pajamas!"  I  exclaimed,  hold 
ing  them  up. 

It  was  neck  and  neck,  but  I  beat  Jenkins  to  it, 
after  all ! 

"Gentleman  says,  sir,"  continued  Jenkins,  study 
ing  the  letter,  "that  his  present  of  a  pair  of  pajamas 
may  seem  surprising,  but  you  won't  know  how  sur 
prising  until  you  have  worn  them." 

"Jolly  likely,"  I  admitted,  feeling  the  silk.  By 
Jove,  it  was  the  finest,  yet  thinnest  stuff  I  ever  saw, 
soft  as  rose  leaves  and  as  filmy  light  as  a  spider's 
web.  Not  bad,  that,  for  a  comparison,  eh  ?  Caught 
the  idea  from  a  vase  of  full-blown  roses  that  were 
beginning  to  shed  their  petals  there  on  the  table. 
And  on  one  of  the  blossoms  was  a  little  brown 
spider.  Catch  the  idea?  Suggested  spider's  web, 
you  know. 

"They're  rather  red,  sir,"  Jenkins  commented  du 
biously. 

Red  ?    Well,  I  should  say !    My !    How  jolly  red 


I4  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

they  were!  We  spread  them  under  the  light,  and 
the  red  seemed  to  flow  all  over  the  table  and  fall 
from  the  edge.  Why,  they  were  as  red  as — 

I  tried  to  think  of  something  they  were  as  red  as, 
but  somehow  I  couldn't  fetch  the  idea.  I  thought 
of  red  ink  and  blood  and  fireworks,  but  they  didn't 
seem  to  be  up  to  them  at  all.  And  a  big,  velvety 
petal  that  dropped  from  one  of  the  crimson  roses 
just  seemed  brown  beside  them. 

And  yet,  dash  it,  I  knew  they  reminded  me  of 
something,  you  know;  I  knew  they  must. 

"They  remind  me—"  I  began,  and  had  to  pause — 
idea  balked,  you  know.  "They  remind  me  of — 
of —  Jenkins,  what  do  they  remind  me  of  ?" 

"Of  him,  sir,"  replied  Jenkins  promptly. 

"Eh?" 

"Old  Memphis  Tuffles,  sir,"  explained  Jenkins 
darkly.  "I  saw  him  once  in  a  opera,  and  he  was  that 
red." 

"By  Jove!"  I  said  thoughtfully,  and  fell  to  watch 
ing  the  little  spider.  It  was  dropping  a  life-line  or 
something  down  to  the  pajamas. 

"But  they  say  he  ain't  always  red,"  Jenkins  con 
tinued  mysteriously.  "A  lady  as  is  in  the  palmistry 
and  card-reading  line  in  Forty-second  Street  told  me 
he  turned  black  whenever  he  got  down  to  business. 
Do  you  suppose  that's  where  they  get  the  idea  of 
what  they  call  black  magic,  sir?" 

I  answered  absently,  for  I  was  wondering  whether 
the  little  spider  was  curious  about  the  jolly  red  color 


there  below  him.  And  just  then  Jenkins'  hand  went 
out  and  swept  at  the  little  thread.  The  spider 
dropped  and  shot  into  a  fold  of  the  pajamas. 

"I  say !  Look  out !"  I  exclaimed  as  Jenkins  made 
another  clutch.  "Don't  mash  the  beast  on  the  silk; 
you'll  ruin  it — the  silk,  I  mean !" 

"There  it  goes,  sir !"  said  Jenkins  eagerly.  "Over 
by  your  hand." 

"No ;  by  Jove ;  he's  gone  into  a  leg  of  the  pajamas! 
Here,  shake  him  out — gently  now!" 

Jenkins  lifted  the  garment  gingerly  and  lightly 
shook  it.  But  nothing  came  forth. 

"Why  don't  you  look  in  the  leg,"  I  said,  "and  see 
if  you  can  see  it?" 

Jenkins  peered  down  one  of  the  silken  tubes  and 
forthwith  dropped  it  with  a  yell.  He  jumped  back. 

"Look  out,  sir,"  he  cried  excitedly;  "don't  touch 
'em !  There's  a  tarantula  in  there  big  as  a  sand  crab, 
and  it's  alive." 

"A  tarantula  ?  Nonsense !  We  don't  have  taran 
tulas  in  New  York,"  I  protested. 

Jenkins  gestured  violently.  "One's  there,  sir, 
anyhow!  I  saw  one  once  on  a  bunch  of  bananas 
down  in  South  Street.  If  they  jump  on  you  and 
bite,  you  might  as  well  just  walk  around  to  the 
undertaker.  A  dago  told  me  so." 

I  backed  nervously  from  the  crumpled  crimson 
pile  on  the  floor. 

Crimson? 

Of  course,  I  knew  it  was  crimson;  it  must  be  the 


16  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

shadow  of  the  table  there  that  made  the  things  so 
dark — black,  in  fact.  But  my  mind  was  on  the 
tarantula ;  and  I  was  thinking  that  it  must  have  been 
wrapped  with  the  pajamas.  Yet  I  could  not  under 
stand  how  this  could  be,  considering  how  tightly 
the  things  had  been  rolled. 

Anyhow,  it  was  there;  and  Jenkins  pointed  ex 
citedly. 

"Look,  sir!  You  can  see  it  moving  under  the 
silk!" 

By  Jove,  so  you  could!  And  the  thing  seemed 
nearly  as  big  as  a  rat.  It  was  making  for  the  enc/ 
of  the  leg.  I  climbed  upon  a  chair. 

"Get  a  club,"  I  exclaimed,  "and  smash  the  thin^ 
as  it  comes  out !" 

Jenkins  rushed  out  and  returned  with  a  brassie. 

"Careful  now,"  I  warned  from  the  chair.  "Don'* 
go  and  hit  the  dashed  thing  before  it  gets  out,  and' 
make  a  devil  of  a  mess  on  the  silk !  There  it  is — itV 
out !  No,  no — not  yet !  Wait,  until  it  gets  its  whok 
body  out !  There  now ;  he's  drawing  out  his  las^ 
beastly  leg.  Now — now  let  drive!" 

And  he  did,  and  seemed  to  hit  the  thing  squarely. 

I  knelt  on  the  chair  and  craned  over,  while  Jen 
kins  still  held  the  stick  tightly  at  the  point  where 
the  thing  had  struck. 

"Get  him?"  I  queried.   "Where  is  it?" 

"That's  it,  sir,"  said  Jenkins  in  an  odd  voice.  "Il 
ain't  here." 


AN    OMINOUS    DISCOVERY  17 

"Why,  dash  it,  I  saw  you  strike  the  beast,  right 
where  you're  holding  that  club." 

"Mr.  Lightnut,  sir" — Jenkins  spoke  a  little  husk 
ily  and  glanced  around  at  me  queerly — "will  you 
look  under  the  end  of  this  stick  and  see  if  you  see 
what  I  see  ?" 

I  climbed  down  and  examined  cautiously. 

"Why,  by  Jove,  it's  the  little  spider!"  I  exclaimed, 
surprised. 

"Exactly,  sir;  what's  left."  Jenkins  took  a  deep 
breath. 

"Thank  you,  sir — it's  a  great  relief,"  he  sighed. 

"Eh?" 

"I  mean,  sir,  I'm  glad  I  ain't  the  only  one  who 
thought  he  saw  that  other.  It's  some  comfort." 

Jenkins  spoke  gloomily. 

"Thought  you  saw?"  I  repeated. 

But  Jenkins  only  shook  his  head  as  he  gathered 
up  the  remains  of  the  spider  and  consigned  them  to 
a  cuspidor. 

"You  mean — say,  what  the  devil  do  you  mean?" 
I  asked  sharply. 

Jenkins  straightened  with  air  respectful  but  sol 
emn. 

"Mr.  Lightnut,  sir,"  he  began  gravely,  "there's  a 
party  lectures  on  the  street  corner  every  night  at 
nine  on  the  fearful  consequences  of  the  drink  habit, 
and  passes  around  blank  pledges  to  be  signed.  I'm 
going  to  get  one  first  chance;  and  if  you  will  accept 


i8  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

it,  sir — meaning  no  offense — I  would  be  proud  to 
get  you  one,  too." 

I  stared  at  him  aghast. 

"Oh,  I  say,  now,"  I  murmured  faintly,  "you  don't 
think  it  was  that,  do  you?" 

Jenkins'  face  was  eloquent  enough. 

"I'm  through,  sir,"  he  said  sadly.  "When  it 
comes  to  seeing  things  like  that — "  He  lifted  his 
eyes.  "No  more  for  me,  sir;  my  belief  is,  it's  a 
warning — yes,  sir,  that's  what,  a  warning." 

I  collapsed  into  a  chair. 

"By  Jove !"  I  gasped  uneasily. 

I  was  awfully  put  out — annoyed,  you  know.  It 
was  the  first  time  anything  of  the  kind  had  ever  hap 
pened  to  me.  If  I  started  in  with  tarantulas,  what 
would  I  be  seeing  next  ? 

Jenkins  gulped  nervously.  "Why,  sir,"  he  whis 
pered,  leaning  toward  me,  "these  pajamas — you  see 
for  yourself  how  red  they  are — they  actually  seemed 
to  lose  color  when  that  bug  was  in  'em." 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  I  said  contemptuously.  "I  saw 
that,  too."  And  I  explained  to  him  about  the 
shadow  of  the  table.  He  nodded. 

"But  that  only  makes  it  worse,  sir,"  he  commented 
dubiously.  "It  shows  the  'mental  condition,'  as  they 
say.  You  know,  we  were  talking  about  the  black 
art — remember,  sir?" 

I  did  remember;  and  also  I  remembered  then  we 
saw  the  spider.  I  recalled  that  spiders  and  tarantu 
las  belonged  to  the  same  family.  Of  course  Jenkins' 


AN    OMINOUS    DISCOVERY  19 

suspicions  hit  the  nail — it  must  be  that — there  was 
no  getting  around  it — but  still— 

"By  Jove,  Jenkins!"  I  said,  trying  to  go  a  feeble 
smile.  "I  never  felt  so  fit  for  a  corking  stiff  high 
ball  in  my  life — never!" 

I  took  a  screw  on  my  glass  and  studied  him  curi 
ously. 

"And  I  say,  you  know — better  take  one  your 
self!"  I  added. 


CHAPTER  III 

I  DON  THE  PAJAMAS 

BY  Jove,  Jenkins,  they  fit  like  a  dream !" 
I  twisted  before  the  glass  and  surveyed  the 
pajamas  with  much  satisfaction.  They  looked  jolly 
right  from  every  point.  Moreover,  with  all  their 
easy  looseness,  there  was  not  an  inch  too  much. 
They  had  a  comfortable,  personal  feel. 

"Lucky  thing  they  weren't  made  originally  for 
some  whale  like  Jack  Billings — eh,  Jenkins  ?"  I  com 
mented  musingly. 

Behind  his  hand  Jenkins  indulged  in  what  is  vul 
garly  known  as  a  snicker. 

"Mr.  Billings,  sir,  he  couldn't  get  one  shoulder  in 
'em,  much  less  a — h'm — leg,"  he  chuckled.  "They'd 
be  in  ribbons,  sir!" 

I  yawned  sleepily,  and  Jenkins  instantly  sobered  to 
attention.  He  held  his  finger  over  the  light  switch 
as  I  punched  a  pillow  and  rolled  over  on  the  mat 
tress. 

"All  right,"  I  said;  "push  the  jolly  thing  out." 
And  with  a  click  darkness  fell  about  me. 

"Good  night,  sir,"  came  Jenkins'  voice  softly. 

"Night,"  I  murmured  faintly,  and  I  was  off. 
20 


I    DON    THE    PAJAMAS  21 

Sometime,  hours  later,  I  awoke,  and  with  a 
devilish  yearning  for  a  smoke.  It  often  takes  me 
that  way  in  the  night. 

I  climbed  out  in  the  blackness  and  found  my  way 
into  the  other  room.  I  remembered  exactly  where  I 
had  dropped  my  cigarette  case  when  we  were  fool 
ing  with  the  pajamas  by  the  table,  and  I  found  it 
without  difficulty. 

In  the  act  of  stooping  for  it,  my  hand  clutched  the 
edge  of  the  table  and  I  felt  a  spot  yield  under  the 
pressure  of  my  thumb.  It  was  the  button  control 
ling  the  bell  to  Jenkins'  room. 

"Lucky  thing  he  sleeps  like  a  jolly  porpoise,"  I 
reflected. 

I  pushed  a  wicker  arm-chair  into  the  moonlight 
and  breeze  by  a  window,  and  pulling  a  flame  to  a 
cigarette,  leaned  back,  feeling  jolly  comfy.  For  the 
breeze  was  ripping  and  delicious,  and  the  delicate 
silk  of  the  pajamas  flowed  in  little  wavelets  all  the 
way  from  my  heels  to  my  neck. 

And,  thinking  of  the  pajamas,  I  tried  to  fix  my 
mind  on  it  that  I  must  tell  Jenkins  to  have  me  write 
that  chap,  Mastermann,  and  send  him  another  lot 
of  those  devilish  good  cigars  he  liked.  I  tried  to 
recall  what  Jenkins  had  said  was  the  name  of  the 
brand — something  deuced  clever,  I  remembered  that 
much. 

I  was  just  about  dropping  off,  when  I  heard  some 
one  hurrying  along  the  private  hall  leading  from  the 
back.  Jenkins  himself  popped  into  the  room. 


22  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Did  you  ring,  sir?"  he  inquired,  and  advanced 
quickly. 

And  then,  before  I  could  think  about  it  to  reply, 
he  halted  suddenly,  almost  pitching  forward.  Then, 
with  a  kind  of  wheezy  howl,  he  sprang  to  the  wall. 
Next  instant,  I  was  blinking  under  the  dazzling  elec 
trolier. 

"Here,  I  say!  Shut  off  that  light!"  I  remon 
strated,  half  blinded. 

I  heard  a  swift  rush  across  the  rugs,  and  the  next 
thing  I  knew  I  was  roughly  jerked  from  out  my 
chair;  strong  fingers  clutched  my  throat,  and  I 
found  myself  glaring  into  a  frightened  but  resolute 
face. 

"Jen-Jenkins!"  I  tried  to  gasp,  but  only  a  gurgle 
came. 

I  was  so  taken  unawares,  I  knew  it  must  be  some 
dashed  dream.  Perhaps  another  minute,  and  I 
would  wake  up.  But  he  gripped  me  tighter  and 
shook  me  like  a  rag. 

"Say,  who  are  you?"  he  hissed.  "How  did  you 
get  in  here?" 

And  then,  of  course,  I  knew  that  he  was  crazy. 
Whether  he  was  crazy  in  a  dream  or  crazy  with 
me  awake,  I  couldn't  guess.  It  made  very  little  dif 
ference,  anyhow,  for  I  knew  that  in  another  minute 
I  should  be  either  dream  dead  or  real  dead ;  and  dash 
rne  if  I  could  see  any  odds  worth  tossing  for  in 
either,  you  know. 

But  I  don't  belong  to  the  athletic  club  quite  for 


I    DON    THE    PAJAMAS  23 

nothing,  and  have  managed  to  pick  up  a  few  tricks, 
you  know.  So  with  the  decision  to  chuck  the  dream 
theory,  I  shot  my  leg  forward  with  a  mix-up  and 
twist  that  made  Jenkins  loosen  his  clutch  and  stag 
ger  backward. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  I  gasped,  ad 
vancing  toward  him.  "Are  you  trying  to  murder 
me?"  But  I  was  so  hoarse,  the  only  word  that  came 
out  plainly  was  "murder." 

Jenkins  uttered  a  howl.  "Help,  Mr.  Lightnut! 
Murder!" 

"You  old  fool!"  I  cried,  exasperated.  "Come 
here!" 

He  was  coming.  He  seized  a  light  chair  and 
swung  it  behind  his  head.  Then  he  rushed  me  with 
'i  shout. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Lightnut!" 

"Gone  clear  off  his  nut !"  was  my  thought.  As  he 
jjwung  the  chair,  I  ducked  low,  and  man  and  chair 
went  crashing  to  the  floor.  But  he  was  up  again  in 
a  jiffy  and  dancing  at  me. 

"Mr.  Lightnut,  sir,  why  don't  you  help  me?" 

"Help  you — you  jolly  idiot?"  I  muttered  indig 
nantly.  Then  my  voice  raised :  "I've  a  mind  to  kill 
you!" 

With  a  yell,  he  made  a  kangaroo  jump  and  swung 
at  me  again. 

"He  says  he's  going  to  kill  me,  Mr.  Lightnut!"  he 
panted  as  I  dodged  again.  "Help  me — wake  up, 
sir!" 


24  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

Wake  up?  Wake  up,  indeed,  when  I  had  never 
been  so  devilish  wide  awake  in  all  my  life!  I  was 
sure  now  about  that.  I  moved  toward  him  cau 
tiously. 

"Stop  your  row!"  I  cried  angrily;  "you'll  have 
somebody  in.  Think  I  want  the  police  up  here  ?" 

With  a  glare  at  me,  Jenkins  darted  past  me  to 
the  bedroom  I  had  just  left.  Its  light  switch  clicked, 
and  then  back  through  the  brightened  doorway  he 
sprang  and  dashed  for  a  wall  cabinet  at  the  side.  He 
began  tugging  at  its  little  drawer.  And  suddenly  I 
remembered  the  revolver  there,  an  old  forty-five 
from  a  friend  in  Denver — and  loaded ! 

My  spring  to  intercept  him  was  quick,  but  not 
quick  enough.  Half-way  to  him  I  pulled  up  under 
the  compelling  argument  of  the  long  blue  barrel 
pointed  at  my  head. 

"Here!  Look  out,  you  fool — it's  loaded!"  I 
warned,  backing  away  to  the  window. 

Jenkins  advanced.  "What  have  you  done  with 
him?"  he  panted  hoarsely.  "Where  is  he?" 

"Where's  who?"  I  asked  savagely,  for  I  was  get 
ting  devilish  tired  of  it  all.  But  for  the  publicity,  I 
should  have  yelled  from  the  window. 

"Where's  Mr.  Lightnut  ?"  he  demanded. 

"Oh,  he's  all  right."  I  decided  to  adopt  that 
soothing  tone  that  I  had  read  somewhere  was  the 
proper  caper  with  lunatics. 

"Where?"  Jenkins  insisted,  pushing  nearer. 

And  dashed  if  I  knew  what  to  answer;  for,  if  I 


I    DON    THE    PAJAMAS  25 

made  a  mistake,  it  might  be  serious,  by  Jove!  Per 
haps  some  jocular  reply  would  be  safest — might  di 
vert  his  attention,  you  know. 

The  open  window  gave  me  an  idea. 

"Why,  do  you  know,"  I  said  pleasantly,  "I  just 
chucked  him  down  into  the  street." 

It  sounded  like  a  cannon  cracker,  that  gun !  The 
shower  of  splintered  glass  from  the  picture  between 
the  windows  barely  missed  me.  But  I  never  waited 
a  second — for  this  last  devilish  straw  was  too  much, 
don't  you  know,  and  something  had  to  be  done.  I 
leaped  for  the  weapon  as  it  struck  the  hardwood 
floor  between  us,  jerked  from  Jenkins'  hand  by  the 
unfamiliar  upward  kick.  Another  instant  and  I  was 
poking  the  muzzle  into  his  side. 

"I've  just  had  enough  of  this,  you  fool !"  I  cried 
impatiently.  "Here,  take  a  good  look  at  me!"  I 
pushed  my  face  closer.  "Look  at  me,  I  tell  you !" 

By  Jove,  he  shuddered !  His  eyes,  wide  distended 
with  terror,  rolled  to  the  ceiling. 

"I  can't,"  he  whispered ;  "I  just  can't — anything 
but  that!  Only,  please — please  don't  kill  me,  too." 

"Kill  you?"  I  said,  frowning  sternly  as  he  gave 
a  furtive  glance.  "I  certainly  will,  if  you  don't  take 
a  good  look  at  me!" 

He  gave  a  sort  of  despairing  sigh  and  closed  his 
eyes  so  tightly  the  lashes  disappeared.  "All  right, 
then,"  he  said  sullenly ;  "you  may  kill  me !" 

The  way  with  these  lunatics,  I  thought.  Next 
thing,  he  would  be  begging  and  insisting  that  I  kill 


26  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

him.  I  motioned  to  the  door  of  my  guest-room  and 
gave  him  a  push. 

"In  there,"  I  said,  "and  keep  perfectly  quiet." 

And  as  he  shot  inside,  I  closed  the  door  and 
locked  it.  I  just  had  to  take  the  chance  of  his  hurt 
ing  himself  against  the  walls  and  furniture ;  I  didn't 
believe  he  was  so  crazy  he  would  undertake  the  six- 
story  leap  to  the  ground.  Listening,  I  heard  some 
thing  like  a  sob.  Then  I  caught  my  name. 

"Poor  Mr.  Lightnut,"  came  chokingly;  "the  kind 
est,  gentlest  master!"  And  then  more  sobs  and 
gulps. 

By  Jove,  under  his  insane  delusion,  the  poor  beg 
gar  was  grieving  for  me;  not  thinking  of  himself  at 
all,  you  know.  I  felt  my  eyes  grow  a  bit  moist, 
somehow,  and  all  at  once  my  heart  went  heavy. 
Thought  how  long  poor  old  Jenkins  had  been  with 
me — ever  since  I  was  out  of  college,  you  know — five 
years — and  remembered  how  devilish  faithful  and 
attached  he  had  always  been.  Poor  old  Jenks!  It 
was  awful  his  going  off  this  way !  I  recalled  how  he 
had  taken  to  seeing  things,  earlier  in  the  evening, 
and  had  made  me  see  them,  too,  dash  it !  One  thing 
I  determined :  whatever  had  to  be  done  with  him,  he 
should  have  the  finest  of  attention. 

I  knew  that  I  ought  to  telephone  to  somebody  or 
something,  but  dashed  if  I  had  any  idea  who  or 
where.  Oddly  enough,  not  a  soul  seemed  to  have 
been  roused  by  the  pistol  shot,  but  I  saw  by  the  little 
clock  that  it  was  close  to  three — the  hour  in  a 


I    DON    THE    PAJAMAS  27 

bachelor  apartment  house  when  everybody  is  asleep, 
if  they're  going  to  sleep  at  all. 

I  decided  that  the  best  thing  to  do  first  was  to  get 
into  some  clothes.  And  with  this  thought  I  was 
turning  away,  when  it  occurred  to  me  to  make  an 
effort  to  see  if  poor  Jenkins  seemed  more  rational 
now  or  had  gone  to  sleep. 

I  tapped  upon  the  door.  "Are  you  asleep?"  I 
asked  softly. 

A  howl  of  positive  terror  came  back. 

"I'm  a-keeping  quiet,"  he  cried,  "but  don't  let  me 
hear  your  voice  again,  or  I'll  jump  right  out  of  the 
window." 

I  shook  my  head  sadly  and  tiptoed  into  my  room, 
where  I  slipped  hurriedly  out  of  the  pajamas  and 
into  some  clothes ;  then  back  I  went  to  the  telephone. 
It  was  on  my  little  writing-desk  close  to  the  door 
confining  Jenkins. 

I  lifted  the  receiver  with  a  sigh. 

"Hello,  central,"  I  began,  responding  to  the  oper 
ator.  "I  say,  will  you  give  me  'information  ?' ' 

A  loud  shout  suddenly  sounded  from  behind  the 
closed  door,  and  there  came  a  frantic  double-pound 
ing  of  fists. 

"Mr.  Lightnut — Mr.  Lightnut!"  screamed  Jen 
kins.  "Oh,  Mr.  Lightnut,  you're  back — you're  alive 
—I  can  hear  your  voice!  This  is  Jenkins,  Mr. 
Lightnut;  yes,  sir,  Jenkins.  They've  got  me  locked 
in!" 

I  clapped  the  receiver  on  the  hook  and  sprang  to 


28  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

the  door,  unlocking  it.  Jenkins  almost  tumbled  into 
my  arms.  By  Jove,  for  a  second  I  hung  in  the  wind, 
he  acted  so  crazy  still;  at  least,  it  seemed  so  just  at 
first.  The  fellow  threw  his  arm  about  my  neck  and 
laughed — laughed  and  cried,  dash  it — and  just 
wringing  my  hands  and  carrying  on —  Oh,  awful! 
And  even  when  I  got  him  into  a  chair,  he  just  sat 
there  laughing  and  crying  like  a  jolly  old  silly,  pat 
ting  my  hand,  you  know,  and  wiping  his  eyes,  what 
time  they  were  not  devouring  me. 

"Has  he  gone,  sir?"  he  gasped  huskily.  "Did  he 
jump  from  the  window?"  But  I  waved  all  ques 
tions  aside. 

"After  you've  had  some  sleep,"  I  insisted.  "Then 
I'll  tell  you  the  whole  jolly  story."  And  I  just  got 
him  to  his  room  myself,  despite  his  distress  and  pro 
tests  over  my  attention. 

"Thank  you,  sir,  and  good  night,"  he  said  as  I 
left  him.  And  he  murmured  placidly,  "I  guess 
we're  all  right  now." 

But  I  was  not  so  sure  as  to  him,  when  I  viewed 
the  broken  chair  and  scattered  fragments  of  glass — 
ominous  reminders  of  the  scene  through  which  I  had 
passed.  And  so,  though  I  threw  the  pistol  on  top  of 
a  bookcase,  I  spent  the  rest  of  the  night  upon  the 
soft  cushions  of  my  big  divan. 


CHAPTER  IV 

JENKINS  DECLARES  FOR  THE  WATER  WAGON 

"T)UT  this  savage-looking  Chinaman  that  you 
-•-'saw,  Jenkins — how  was  he  dressed?"  I 
adopted  a  careless  tone  of  inquiry. 

It  was  high  noon,  and  I  was  toying  with  an  after 
luncheon,  or  rather  after  breakfast,  cigar. 

Jenkins'  head  shook  dubiously.  "I  just  remember 
something  blackish.  My,  sir,  I  didn't  have  time  to 
notice  nothing  like  clothes !" 

His  tone  conveyed  aggrieved  protest.  He  went 
on: 

"Just  as  I'm  telling  you,  sir,  I  saw  some  one  sit 
ting  there  by  the  window  and  walked  toward  him, 
thinking  it  was  you.  Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  I  see 
his  awful  face  a-scowling  at  me  there  in  the  moon 
light." 

"And  he  was  smoking,  you  say?" 

Jenkins  sniffed  indignantly.  "Free  and  easy  as 
a  lord,  sir !  He  held  a  long  stick  to  his  ugly  mouth, 
and  smoke  was  curling  out  of  a  little  bowl  near  the 
end." 

"Oh,  opium  pipe,  eh?" 

"Likely,  sir,"  agreed  Jenkins;  "but  I  never  saw 
one." 

20 


30  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

By  Jove,  I  had  my  own  opinion  about  that!  I 
knew  he  must  have  seen  one  before;  but  I  just  went 
on  questioning,  to  gain  time,  you  know,  and  wonder 
ing  all  the  while  how  I  should  ever  be  able  to  break 
the  truth  to  the  poor  fellow. 

"Tell  me  again  what  he  was  like,"  I  said.  "How 
did  you  know  he  was  a  Chinaman  ?" 

"Why,  by  his  long  black  pigtail,  sir,  and  his  onery 
color.  But  I  never  saw  no  Chinaman  as  ugly  as 
this  one — no  sir.  Oh,  he  was  just  too  awful  horrid 
to  look  at,  sir.  His  forehead  sloped  away  back,  or 
maybe  the  front  part  of  his  head  being  all  shaved 
made  it  look  that  way.  And  the  skin  about  his  eyes 
was  painted  white  with  red  streaks  shooting  around 
like  rays  of  light." 

"No  beard  or  mustache,  I  suppose?"  I  suggested, 
feeling  my  own  smooth-shaven  face.  Jenkins'  reply 
was  a  surprise: 

"Yes,  sir ;  there  were  long  black  kind  of  rat  tails 
that  dropped  down  from  the  sides  of  his  mouth. 
And  then  his  neck — ugh — all  thick  with  woolly 
hair." 

"Oh.  it  was,  eh?"  I  said  drily,  thinking  of  the 
long  red  stripe  that  my  collar  concealed.  "I  suppose 
you  felt  this,  eh,  when  you  jumped  at  his  throat?" 

Jenkins  rubbed  his  chin  with  a  puzzled  air. 

"Why,  that's  uncommon  queer,  sir;  but  now  that 
you  remind  me,  I  do  remember  that  his  neck  felt 
perfectly  smooth — and  it  wasn't  so  big,  either.  Why, 
I  should  say  it  felt  just  about  like  yours  would,  sir." 


THE    WATER    WAGON  31 

I  eyed  him  ruefully. 

"By  Jove,  I  don't  doubt  it  a  minute!"  I  com 
mented  with  some  disgust.  "See  here,  Jenkins,  I 
suppose  you've  been  to  the  Chinese  theater  down  in 
Doyers  Street,  eh?" 

For  I  had  been  down  there  with  slumming  parties, 
and  I  remembered  the  hideous  sorcerers,  fierce  war 
riors  and  kings  the  Chinks  represent  in  their  inter 
minable  plays.  And  the  facial  make-up  described  by 
Jenkins  tallied  in  a  way  with  some  I  recalled  from 
these  ancient,  semi-mythical  plays. 

But  at  my  question,  Jenkins'  lip  curled  a  little; 
dash  me,  but  he  looked  almost  insulted. 

"I  should  say  not,  sir,"  he  said  with  a  sniff;  "you 
don't  catch  me  going  down  in  them  parts!"  He 
added  quickly:  "Meaning  no  offense,  sir." 

"Sure?"  I  questioned  sharply. 

"Never,  sir!"  Jenkins'  earnestness  was  unmistak 
able.  But  of  course  I  knew  the  poor  fellow  had  for 
gotten  all  about  it. 

"One  of  the  jolly  rum  things  that  goes  along  with 
his  affliction,"  I  reflected  sadly.  "A  month  from 
now  the  poor  beggar  will  be  swearing  he  never  saw 
me  in  his  life."  And  how  the  devil  was  I  going  to 
break  the  truth  to  him?  I  sighed  perplexedly. 
"Well,  go  on  with  your  yarn,"  I  said  irresolutely. 
"You  were  telling,  when  I  interrupted,  about  rush 
ing  into  my  bedroom." 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  resumed  with  animation.  "And 
when  I  didn't  find  you,  I  was  just  frantic,  for  I 


32  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

didn't  know  you  had  gone  out,  sir — never  thought 
of  that ;  I  went  for  the  ugly  monster  with  the  big 
pistol  there  in  the  cabinet — which,  by  the  way,  sir, 
the  low  down  villain  stole  when  he  locked  me  up  and 
lit  out." 

I  had  an  inspiration. 

"I  see,"  I  broke  in  carelessly;  "and  then  you  de 
manded  to  know  where  I  was — that  it?  Then  you 
backed  him  to  that  window,  and  he  told  you  he  had 
chucked  me  into  the  street — whereupon  you  tried, 
to  blow  off  his  head  and  knocked  the  jolly  daylights 
out  of  the  lady  with  the  fencing  foil." 

Jenkins,  his  mouth  agape,  viewed  me  with  dis 
tended  eyes. 

"I  didn't  tell  you  that,  sir,"  he  faltered.   "How — " 

"And  when  you  dropped  the  weapon,"  I  went  on, 
"this  chap  collared  it,  jabbed  the  beastly  thing  into 
you,  and  told  you  to  look  at  him.  And  by  Jove  you 
wouldn't !" 

Jenkins  groaned  slightly.  The  apologetic  cough 
with  which  he  strove  to  mantle  the  sound  was  drj 
and  spiritless. 

"No,  sir;  it  seemed  easier  to  die,  sir,"  he  mur 
mured — "what  with  him  grinning  like  a  fiend  and 
his  long  teeth  a-sticking  out  over  his  lip — ugh!" 
Then  he  added  wonderingly :  "But  what  gets  me  is 
how  you  should  know,  sir." 

I  looked  at  him  gravely. 

"Jenkins,"  I  said  gently2  "I  know,  because  it  so 
happens  I  was  here  all  the  time." 


THE    WATER    WAGON  33 

His  eyes  bulged  incredulously. 

"You,  sir?    You  mean  in  this  room?" 

I  nodded  slowly.  "I  mean  right  in  this  room — I 
was  a  witness  of  the  whole  thing." 

Jenkins  just  gulped.     I  motioned  to  a  chair. 

"You  may  sit  down,  Jenkins,  my  poor  fellow,"  I 
said  compassionately.  I  poured  out  some  whisky 
and  gave  it  to  him. 

"Yes,  yes;  I  want  you  to  drink  that,"  I  insisted 
as  he  took  it  hesitatingly.  "You  will  need  it.  Drink 
every  drop  of  it." 

And  I  watched  him  do  it.  For  somehow  the  poor 
devil  seemed  to  be  growing  paler  every  minute,  and 
I  was  afraid  the  shock  of  what  I  was  going  to  say 
would  send  him  into  a  swoon. 

Jenkins  replaced  the  empty  glass  with  a  positively 
trembling  hand.  By  Jove,  his  face  turned  a  kind 
of  asparagus  yellow. 

It  alarmed  me  a  little,  for  I  felt  apprehensive  that 
perhaps  it  was  time  for  him  to  have  another  spell, 
you  know.  Of  course,  I  knew  that  the  devilishly 
adroit,  tactful  way  I  was  breaking  it  to  him  wouldn't 
disturb  the  peace  of  a  baby.  Some  people  would 
have  gone  about  the  thing  in  some  deuced  abrupt 
way,  don't  you  know,  and  alarmed  him.  I  didn't 
want  to  do  that — in  fact,  I  took  pains  to  tell  him  so 
at  the  start. 

"I  don't  want  to  frighten  you,  my  poor  fellow," 
I  said,  leaning  toward  him  and  speaking  in  a  low, 
earnest  voice — just  that  way,  you  know — no  excite- 


34  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

ment.  "You  mustn't  let  anything  I  say  frighten  you 
badly  about  yourself." 

"No,  sir.  Thank  you,  sir."  But  I  could  hardly 
hear  him. 

I  waited  a  moment,  eying  him  steadily — just  do 
ing  it  all  in  that  calm  way,  you  know — and  then : 

"You  must  brace  yourself  for  a  great  shock,  my 
poor  Jenkins,"  I  said  soothingly.  And  then  I 
thought  I  had  best  hurry  on,  for  I  could  tell  by  the 
way  his  eyes  rolled  and  the  blue  color  of  his  lips  that 
probably  I  was  just  in  time  to  head  off  another  at 
tack.  And  then  I  told  him  all. 

"And  here,"  I  concluded,  "are  the  marks  of  your 
ringers  under  my  collar,  and  the  pistol  is  on  top  of 
the  bookcase." 

Jenkins  just  sat  there,  kind  of  huddled  up,  you 
know,  and  his  face  as  white  as  the  what-you-call-it 
snow.  Didn't  seem  able  to  say  a  word.  By  Jove, 
it  was  too  much  for  me;  my  heart  just  went  out  to 
him. 

"It's  all  right,  Jenkins,"  I  said  kindly,  and  I  patted 
his  knee.  "Doesn't  make  a  jolly  bit  of  difference  to 
me,  personally.  Just  told  you  because  I  thought  you 
ought  to  know.  You  just  go  right  along  and  con 
tinue  your  duties,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

Jenkins'  hand  slipped  along  his  knee  and  ventured 
to  touch  mine  timidly.  He  rose  heavily. 

"Mr.  Lightnut,  sir,"  he  said  huskily,  "if  you're 
not  going  to  need  me  very  much,  could  I  be  excused 
for  a  while  to-night?" 


THE   .WATER    WAGON  35 

"By  Jove,  yes,  Jenkins!  Go  out  and  enjoy  the 
evening;  it  will  do  you  good.  Stay  as  long  as  you 
like,  dash  it !  You  know  I  dine  to-night  at  the  club. 
Go  to  a  roof  garden  and  get  some  fresh  air." 

A  toss  of  the  head  broke  Jenkins'  calm;  his  fist 
struck  his  palm. 

"It  ain't  that,  sir,"  he  exclaimed.  "I  don't  want 
no  fresh  air,  but  I  do  want  fresh  resolution  and  a 
fresh  start.  I'm  going  to  find  him." 

"Him !"  I  was  startled.  Dash  me,  I  half  thought 
he  meant  the  Chinaman. 

"Him,  sir;  that  temperance  lecturer,  I  mean.  I'm 
going  to  get  out  a  paper  against  that  old  enemy 
there!"  And  he  shook  his  fist  at  the  whisky  de 
canter. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  GIRL  FROM  RADCLIFFE 

"JONG  distance  call  from  Mr.  Billings,  sir,"  said 
A— 'Jenkins,  lifting  the  receiver. 

By  Jove,  he  had  just  caught  me  as  I  was  about  to 
leave. 

"Hello!  That  you,  Lightnut?"  came  his  voice. 
"Say,  old  chap,  you  remember  you  said  you 
wouldn't  mind  putting  up  the  kid  overnight  on  the 
way  home  from  college.  Remember?  Wants  to 
rest  over  and  come  up  the  river  on  the  day  line." 

Yes,  I  remembered,  and  said  so. 

"All  right,  then;  it's  to-night.  Be  there  about 
nine  from  Boston.  Don't  go  to  any  trouble,  now. 
nor  alter  any  plans.  The  kid  will  probably  be  dead 
tired  and  off  to  bed  before  you  get  home  from  your 
dinner." 

"That's  all  right,  old  chap;  Jenkins  will  look  after 
the  young  one." 

I  heard  Billings  chuckle — I  remembered  that 
chuckle  afterward. 

"Not  much  of  the  young  one  there.  Eighteen,  you 
know.  Never  off  to  school,  though,  until  last  year — 
and  by  George,  it  was  time !  Between  my  mother  and 

36 


THE    GIRL    FROM    RADCLIFFE        37 

/my  sister  the  kid  was  being  absolutely  ruined — pet 
ted,  mollycoddled,  and  was  getting  soft  and  silly — 
oh,  something  to  make  you  sick.  Well,  so  much 
obliged,  Dicky.  You  know  what  these  hotels  are. 
Good-by." 

I  explained  to  Jenkins.  "All  right,  sir,"  he  said. 
"I  won't  go  out  until  after  nine.  It'll  be  time 
enough." 

And  so  I  went  off.  I  returned  early,  about  ten, 
;nnd  sat  reading.  Jenkins  was  still  away,  and  the 
•door  of  my  guest  room  was  open. 

"Good  evening!" 

The  voice  behind  me  was  soft,  musical,  delicious. 

I  whirled  about,  and  there,  within  the  door,  lean 
ing  against  the  frame,  was  the  most  beautiful  crea 
ture  I  ever  saw  in  all  my  life. 

A  girl !  But  oh,  by  Jove,  such  a  girl !  A  lovely, 
rosy  blonde,  dash  it!  Golden-haired  angel — long, 
droopy  kind  of  lashes,  don't  you  know — eyes  like 
dreamy  sapphire  seas — oh,  that  sort  of  thing — a 
peach! 

The  leap  that  brought  me  to  my  feet  sent  my  chair 
thudding  backward. 

"Why — er — good  evening,"  I  managed  to  stam 
mer.  Just  managed,  you  know,  for,  give  you  my 
word,  I  never  was  so  bowled  over  in  my  life — never! 
And  on  the  instant  I  guessed  what  it  meant.  The 
"kid"  that  Billings  referred  to  wasn't  a  kid  brother 
at  all,  but  was  a  kid  sister — girl,  by  Jove ! 

"Are  you  busy?"  I  saw  the  flash  of  her  perfect 


38  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

little  teeth  as  her  lips  parted  in  a  smile.  "If  not, 
may  I  talk  to  you  a  while?" 

I  mumbled  something  designed  to  be  pleasant — 
dash  me  if  I  know  what — and  managed  to  summon 
sense  enough  to  lift  toward  her  a  wicker  arm-chair. 
Then  I  dashed  into  my  bedroom  to  chuck  the  smok 
ing- jacket  and  get  into  a  coat.  And  all  the  while  I 
was  thinking  harder  than  I  ever  had  thought  it  pos 
sible. 

Just  the  thing  to  have  expected  of  an  ass  like 
Billings — a  fellow  with  no  sense  of  the  proprieties! 
His  kind  of  mind  had  never  got  any  further  than  the 
fact  that  I  had  a  guest-room  and  a  quiet  apartment. 
The  further  fact  that  it  was  in  a  bachelor  apartment 
house  and  I  a  bachelor — and  not  yet  out  of  my 
twenties,  dash  it — would  never  have  presented  itself 
to  a  chump  like  Billings  as  having  any  bearing  on 
the  matter. 

"Of  course,  I  must  get  right  over  to  the  club  and 
leave  her  in  possession — it's  the  only  thing  left  to 
do."  This  was  my  thought  as  I  slipped  into  my  coat 
and  gave  my  hair  a  touch — just  a  touch,  don't  you 
know.  The  thing  to  do  was  to  carry  it  off  as  nat 
urally  as  possible  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  slip 
away.  Probably  she  hadn't  counted  upon  my  being 
in  town  at  all — had  taken  it  for  granted  it  was  some 
sort  of  family  apartment — with  housekeeper,  servant 
maids,  all  that  sort  of  thing. 

"Never  mind,"  I  thought,  as  I  kicked  off  my  half- 
shoes  and  jerked  on  the  first  things  at  hand.  "Thing 


THE    GIRL    FROM    RADCLIFFE        39 

to  do  now  is  to  keep  that  child's  mind  from  being 
distressed.  She'll  have  a  good  sleep  and  get  off 
early  in  the  morning  on  the  Albany  boat.  Don't 
-suppose  she'd  understand,  anyhow — sweet,  innocent, 
unsophisticated  thing  like  that.  What  a  fool  Bil 
lings  is!" 

And  I  jammed  in  savagely  the  turquoise  matrix 
pin  with  which  I  was  replacing  the  pearl,  because 
^t  went  better  with  my  tie. 

"Now,  just  a  few  minutes  of  conversation  to  put 
her  at  her  ease,"  I  reflected,  "and  then  I'm  off.  I'll 
get  the  janitor's  wife  to  come  up  and  stay  near  her." 

And  I  dashed  back,  murmuring  some  jolly  rub 
bish  of  apology.  And  then  I  just  brought  up  speech 
less — almost  fell  over  backward.  For  as  she  stood 
l:here  under  the  light,  I  saw  that  what  I  had  taken 
for  a  dress  of  black  silk  was  not  a  dress  at  all,  but 
a  suit  of  pajamas — black,  filmy  pajamas,  whose 
Loose,  elegance  concealed  but  could  not  wholly  deny 
/:he  goddess-like  figure  within. 

"I'd  have  known  you  anywhere,  Mr.  Lightnut." 
.And  then  I  found  that  we  were  shaking  hands,  rny 
fingers  crushed  in  a  grasp  I  never  could  have  thought 
possible  from  that  tiny  hand.  "From  hearing  Jack 
talk,  your  name  is  a  sort  of  household  word  in  the 
Billings  family." 

I  mumbled  something  jolly  idiotic — some  ac 
knowledgment.  But  I  was  pink  about  the  ears, 
and  I  knew  it,  while  she  was  cool  and  serene  as  a  lily 
of  the  what-you-call-it,  don't  vou  know.  I  was  trv- 


40  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

ing  not  to  see  the  pajamas,  trying  to  pretend  not  to 
notice  them,  but  dashed  if  I  didn't  only  make  it 
worse ! 

For  she  looked  down  at  herself  with  a  laugh — 
rather  an  embarrassed  laugh,  I  thought;  and  her 
little  shrug  and  glance  directed  attention  to  her 
attire. 

"I  see  you're  looking  at  the  pajamas,"  she  said 
smiling. 

And  her  eyes  looked  at  me  through  those  droop 
ing  lashes — oh,  such  a  way ! 

"Oh,  no — I  assure — certainly  not,"  I  stammered 
hastily.  Dash  it,  I  never  was  so  rebuked  and  morti 
fied  in  all  my  life.  What  an  ass  I  had  been  to  seem 
to  notice  at  all ! 

She  looked  troubled.  "Say,  do  you  mind  my 
wearing  them?"  she  inquired. 

"I?  Certainly  not — well,  I  should  say  not!"  I 
retorted,  almost  with  indignation. 

"Sure?"    By  Jove,  what  ripping  eyes  she  had! 

"Of  course  not!"  emphatically. 

Her  sunny  head  nodded  satisfaction.  ."That's  all 
right,  then.  I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't  like  it — 
afraid  you  would  think  I  was  acting  a  little  free. 
But  your  man  Jenkins — isn't  that  his  name? — said 
he  thought  you  would  like  for  me  to  wear  them." 

I  gasped. 

"Jen — what's  that?"  I  was  amazed,  indignant  at 
Jenkins'  effrontery.  "He — he  suggested  that  you 
wear — er — these  ?" 


THE    GIRL    FROM    RADCLIFFE        41 

She  nodded,  her  glorious  eyes  shining  wistfully. 

"You  see,  I  went  to  a  frat  dance  last  night  in 
Cambridge,"  she  explained;  "and  in  the  hurry  this 
morning,  somehow,  one  of  my  bags — a  suit-case — 
was  left  behind.  And  when  I  got  here  to-night  and 
began  piling  the  things  out  of  my  other  bag — well, 
I  saw  I  was  up  a  tree.  Not  a  thing  to  slip  into,  you 
know — not  so  much  as  a  dressing-gown  or  even  a 
bathrobe.  Then  your  man  saved  my  life — sug 
gested  these  pajamas.  See?" 

"Oh,  I  see!" 

I  said  so;  but,  dash  it,  I  wasn't  sure  I  did,  for  I 
knew  so  devilish  little  about  girls.  But  I  got  hold  of 
this  much :  I  understood  that  this  delicately  reared 
creature  had  missed  the  restfulness  and  luxury  of 
a  shift  to  some  sort  of  dressing-robe  after  her  day 
of  travel.  Probably  one  of  those  ribbony,  pinky- 
white  fripperies  one  sees  in  the  windows  of  the 
Avenue  shops,  rosy,  foamy  dreams  like  the — well, 
like  the  crest  of  a  soda  cocktail,  don't  you  know. 
And  the  pajamas  had  been  adopted  as  a  comfortable 
makeshift. 

By  Jove !  And  here  she  was  sitting,  calmly  telling 
me  all  about  it — just  as  she  might  to  Jack — never 
thinking  a  thing  about  it !  My,  how  charming,  how 
innocent  she  was !  But,  dash  it,  that  was  the  reason 
she  was  so  beautiful — of  course,  that  was  it — and 
I  had  never  seen  anybody  like  her  in  all  the  world 
before.  I  knew  jolly  well  I  never  should  again, 
either.  But  I  knew  I  ought  to  go — and  at  once. 


42  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"I  must  cut  along  now,"  I  thought;  "infernal 
shame  to  be  taking  advantage  of  her  this  way!" 
And  then  I  thought  I  would  just  wait  a  wee  minute 
longer. 

Just  then  she  turned  toward  me,  her  elbow  on 
the  arm  of  the  wicker  chair,  her  dainty,  manicured 
finger-tips  supporting  her  chin. 

"You  know,  Mr.  Lightnut,  I  wasn't  sure  you 
would  remember  me  at  all,"  she  said.  "I  was  such  a 
kid  when  you  saw  me  last." 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  said,  trying  to  recall  the  rather 
hoydenish  children  I  had  seen  on  the  motor  trip  to 
Billings'  home  five  years  before.  "I  remember  yor, 
were  quite  a  little  girl — weren't  you?" 

I  thought  her  face  darkened  a  little;  then  het 
smile  flashed  through,  like  sunshine  through  a  cloud 
Her  laugh  came  on  top,  like  the  mellow  ripple  of  a 
tiny  brook — that  sort  of  thing — oh,  you  know! 

"Oh,  I  say  now,  Mr.  Lightnut,  cut  out  the  josh," 
she  remonstrated;  and  I  thought  she  grew  a  little 
red.  "No  more  for  mine  those  sissy,  girlie  ways — 
I've  got  well  over  all  of  that !" 

She  tossed  one  knee  over  the  other  and  threw  her 
self  back  in  the  chair.  She  seemed  a  little  piqued, 
She  went  on : 

"I  just  tell  you  what — there's  nothing  like  a 
couple  of  years  off  at  college  for  toughening  you! 
Gets  all  those  mamma's  baby  ways  out  of  you,  you 
bet  your  life,  and  all  the  slushiness  you  get  from 
trying  to  be  like  your  sisters.  Shucks !" 


THE    GIRL    FROM    RADCLIFFE        43 

I  caught  my  breath.  Of  course,  she  had  no  idea 
how  it  sounded — this  sort  of  talk;  it  was  just  her 
innocent  frankness,  her — what  d'ye  call  it? — her  in 
genuousness — dash  it ! 

She  continued  musingly:  "Gee,  but  I  was  soft 
when  I  first  went  away — a  regular  pie- faced  angel- 
child!"  Her  voice  had  in  it  a  sneer.  Then  she 
straightened  up,  whirled  her  chair  facing  me,  and 
gave  me  a  sounding  slap  on  the  knee.  "Say,  maybe 
the  fellows  I  met  didn't  educate  that  out  of  me 
mighty  quick!  Well,  I  reckon  yes!"  And  she 
nodded,  eying  me  sidewise,  her  pretty  chin  in  the 
.air. 

But,  dash  me,  I  was  so  aghast  I  couldn't  get  out 
,a  word.  Just  sat  there  batting  at  her  and  turning 
hot  and  cold  by  turns.  Came  devilish  near  losing 
consciousness,  by  Jove,  that's  what ! 

Of  course,  I  knew  she  didn't  know  what  she  was 
talking  about.  Hadn't  any  sisters  myself,  don't  you 
know,  and  never  had  learned  much  about  other 
fellows'  sisters;  but,  dash  it,  I  knew  something 
about  faces,  and  I  would  have  staked  my  life  on 
hers.  You  can  nearly  always  tell,  you  know.  But, 
anyhow,  I  thought  I  had  better  go  now. 

I  got  up.  "I  say,  you  want  to  just  make  yourself 
at  home,"  I  said.  "And  if  you  don't  mind,  I'll  see 
you  at  the  boat  in  the  morning." 

She  stood  up,  too,  looking  rather  surprised. 
"You're  not  going  away?" 

"Oh,  no;  not  out  of  town."    I  thought  that  was 


44  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

what  she  meant.  I  added :  "And  as  I  go  out,  I'll 
stop  down-stairs  and  have  some  one  come  up  and 
stay  with  you." 

She  dropped  to  the  arm  of  the  chair,  her  pretty 
face  showing  dismay. 

"Oh,  but  see  here!  I'm  running  you  off — I  know 
I  am.  Say,  Mr.  Lightnut,  I  don't  want  to  do  that. 
I  thought  sure  you  were  going  to  be  here.  Brother 
insisted  you  would  be." 

Brother!  Nice  brother,  indeed,  for  her — poor 
little  thing! 

"Oh,  you'll  be  all  right,"  I  said  reassuringly.  "I'm 
just  going  over  to  the  club,  don't  you  know — not  far 
away." 

She  came  right  up  to  me  and  placed  a  hand  on 
each  shoulder. 

"Honest  Injun,  now,"  she  said — and  her  smile 
was  ravishing.  "Honest,  now,  Mr.  Lightnut,  you're 
going  just  because  I'm  here.  Say  now,  own  up!" 

And,  dash  it,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  admit  it. 

"All  right,"  she  said;  and  I  thought  her  eyes 
flashed  a  little.  "Then  I  go  to  a  hotel — that's  all !" 

"A  hotel!     Why,  you  can't  do  that — oh,  I  say!" 

"Why  can't  I?"  She  was  downright  angry — I 
could  see  it;  and  how  distractingly  lovely  she  was 
with  that  flame  in  her  cheeks ! 

But  she. was  just  a  child — an  innocent  little  child  ; 
and  how  the  deuce  could  I  ever  make  her  under 
stand  ? 

I  stammered  :  "Why — er — not  in  New  York,  you 


THE    GIRL    FROM    RADCLIFFE        45 

know.  They  won't  take  a  lady  in  at  this  time  of 
night.  They — " 

She  snapped 'her  fingers.  "Oh,  I  say,  Mr.  Light- 
nut,  play  easier  on  that  girlie  and  lady  pedal ;  cook 
up  a  fresh  gag!  I  tell  you,  I've  put  all  that  behind 
me.  Say,  wait  till  you've  known  me  a  little,  and  I'll 
bet  a  purse  you  never  call  me  a  lady  again !  Lady ! 
Say,  that's  funny!" 

And  it  certainly  seemed  to  strike  her  sense  of 
humor.  She  gave  me  a  sudden  punch  in  the  side 
that  fairly  left  me  breathless,  and  her  laughter  rang 
out  birdlike,  joyous.  Of  a  sudden  I  felt  devilish 
awkward  and  foolish. 

"Oh,  please  stop  stringing  me,  Mr.  Lightnut — 
don't  treat  me  like  a  kid.  I  want  to  get  acquainted." 
Then  her  bright  face  sobered.  "Say,  was  that  on  the 
level — that  about  your  going  to  leave  me  ?  See  here, 
I'm  not  bothering  you,  am  I,  Mr.  Lightnut?" 

"Bothering  me!"  I  ejaculated.  "Bothering  me? 
I  should  say  not !" 

I  think  I  must  have  said  it  heartily  and  convin 
cingly,  don't  you  know,  for  her  lovely  face  looked 
pleased. 

"Because  if  I  am,"  she  said  earnestly,  "I'll  fade 
away  into  my  own  little  room  there."  Her  glance 
ranged  toward  her  door.  "It's  sure  some  swell,  that 
room." 

"So  jolly  glad  you  like  it,"  I  said. 

"Well,  I  should  say!"  Then  her  beautiful  eyes 
looked  at  me  full. 


46  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"You  know,  I  didn't  expect  this — I  mean  having 
a  room  all  to  myself.  Never." 

And  then,  while  I  gasped,  she  went  on,  sweetly 
and  calmly : 

"Why,  Mr.  Lightnut,  Brother  Jack  would  throw 
seventeen  thousand  fits  if  I  went  to  a  hotel,  be 
cause—  '  She  laughed  deliciously.  "Well,  I  prom 
ised  him  that  if  he  would  let  me  come  home  by  New 
York  I  would  stay  right  here  with  you  and  behave 
myself." 

"Behave  yourself!"  I  echoed  indignantly.  "Why, 
look  here,  do  you  mean  to  say  Jack  Billings — your 
own  brother,  you  know — thought  you  wouldn't — ei 
— do  that  at  a  hotel?" 

"Thought?"  Her  laugh  this  time  was  explosive 
"No,  he  never  thought  it ;  he  knew  I  wouldn't !  Hi 
knew  I  would  be  tearing  around  all  night  with  the 
boys — that's  what !" 

And  dash  me,  if  she  didn't  throw  herself  back 
with  a  kind  of  swagger,  by  Jove ! 

"Why,  you — you  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing!"  1 
uttered  faintly. 

,  "Wouldn't  I?"  She  straightened  suddenly,  and 
her  lovely  blue  eyes  narrowed  at  me.  "Say,  Mr, 
Lightnut,  I  don't  want  you  to  get  me  sized  up- 
wrong.  I'm  none  of  your  little  waxy  gardenias — 
not  much !  When  I'm  in  New  York,  it's  the  bright 
lights  and  the  Great  White  Way  for  mine — yes,  sir, 
every  time!" 

And  she  gave  me  a  blow  on  the  shoulder  that  wa.< 


THE    GIRL    FROM    RADCLIFFE        47 

like  a  stroke  from  a  man's  arm.  It  sent  me  down 
into  my  chair. 

"If  you  don't  believe  me,"  she  added,  her  face 
shining  with  excitement,  "just  you  ask  Jack  about 
last  summer  when  I  came  through — about  that  joy 
ride  to  Coney  with  three  Columbia  fellows,  and  how 
we  got  pinched.  Oh,  mamma,  but  didn't  Jack  swear 
at  me!" 

I  heard  a  noise  by  the  door.  Jenkins  stood  there, 
his  eyes  sticking  out  like  hard  boiled  eggs. 

"I — I'm  back,  sir,"  he  said  rather  falteringly. 
"Beg  pardon,  sir;  just  thought  you'd  want  to  know. 
I  didn't  know  you — h'm !"  And  with  an  odd  look 
and  a  little  cough  Jenkins  slipped  away.  But  I 
scarcely  noticed  him  at  all. 

Poor  misguided  girl ! 

My  brain  was  buzzing  like  a  devilish  hive  of  bees, 
don't  you  know.  By  Jove,  this  was  something 
awful! 

And  yet — and  yet —  Her  frank,  sweet  face  met 
mine  with  a  clear  light  that  there  was  no  mistaking. 
There  was  no  going  behind  it — she  was  a  thorough 
bred,  a  queen — a  lady,  dash  it!  I  knew  it!  And  I 
just  settled  on  that,  and  was  ready  to  die  right  then 
and  there  if  anybody  dared  to  dispute  it.  I  didn't 
care  a  jolly  hang  how  she  talked ;  it  was  just 
nothing — just  the  demoralizing  swagger  of  a  little 
boarding-school  girl  trying  to  show  off  like  her 
brothers.  And  her  language?  Why,  just  the  devil 
ish,  natural  result  of  having  a  coarse,  slangy  brute 


48  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

like  Billings  for  a  brother.    Poor  little  girl!    It  was 
a  beastly  shame. 

She  was  watching  me  curiously,  smilingly,  as  she 
sat  there,  her  devilishly  pretty  mouth  puckered  into 
a  cherry  as  she  softly  whistled  and  drummed  her 
shining  nails  upon  the  chair  arm. 

"I'm  afraid  I've  shocked  you,"  she  said.  "Jack 
says  you're  so  good." 

Dash  it,  somehow  I  felt  humiliated!  She  said  it 
in  a  way  that  made  me  feel  like  a  silly  ass,  you 
know. 

But  she  wasn't  thinking  about  me  any  more.  Her 
eye  fell  on  the  tabouret,  and  her  little  hand  stretched 
toward  it. 

"May  I  ?"  she  said  with  an  arch  inquiring  glance. 
"Your  cigarettes  look  good  to  me.  I  emptied  my 
case  an  hour  ago." 

And  I  proffered  them  with  a  show  of  alacrity. 
"Pray,  pardon  me,"  I  said.  "I — I  never  thought  oi4 
you  smoking."  A  chuckle  came  through  the  tiny 
teeth  grasping  the  cigarette.  "Thought  I  was  too 
goody-goody,  eh?" 

I  stammered  something — dashed  if  I  know  what 
— and  blinked  a  little  gloomily  as  she  drew  a  brisk 
fire  from  the  flame  I  tendered. 

Odd  thing,  by  Jove;  here  I  had  been  going  to 
dinners,  world  without  end,  where  fellows'  wives 
and  girls  and  sisters  smoked  cigarettes,  and  I  never 
had  thought  a  thing  about  it.  But  now,  somehow, 
I  didn't  like  it  for  her.  Sort  of  thing  well  enough 


THE    GIRL    FROM    RADCLIFFE        49 

for  other  chaps'  girls  and  sisters,  you  know,  but — > 
well,  this  was  different,  by  Jove!  Devilish  queer 
thing,  that,  what  a  lot  of  things  seem  the  caper  for 
them  that  we  don't  like  for  "our  own,"  eh? 

And  yet — oh,  I  say,  she  certainly  did  look  fetch 
ing  about  it — downright  bewitching,  you  know!  I 
think  maybe  it  was  because  she  didn't  fumble  the 
thing  as  if  she  was  afraid  of  it — as  if  it  was  just  a 
red  hot  coal  and  going  to  burn  her.  Most  of  them 
do,  you  know.  No,  this  girl  really  seemed  to  enjoy 
it.  Inhaled  the  whole  thing  at  three  draws  and 
reached  for  another. 

"Do — er — you  smoke  much?"  I  ventured  anx 
iously.  "Cigarettes,  you  know?" 

She  pulled  a  sparkling  half-inch  as  she  shook  her 
little  head.  I  felt  awfully  relieved.  "Not  for  me," 
she  remarked  carelessly.  "I  prefer  a  pipe." 

"Pipe!"  I  repeated  feebly. 

The  golden  head  inclined.  "Bet  you!  Good  old, 
well-seasoned  brier  for  mine — well-caked  and  a 
little  strong."  Puff-puff.  "Oh,  damn  your  patent 
sanitary  pipes,  I  say!" 

And  as  backward  I  collapsed  upon  the  cushions, 
"he  threw  her  leg  over  the  arm  of  her  chair  and  shot 
two  long  cones  of  smoke  from  her  dainty  nostrils. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ARCADIAN    SIMPLICITY 

A  MOMENT  later  I  had  another  shock. 
**•     "I  don't  blame  you  for  looking  at  me  so  hard/' 
she  said,  rubbing  her  chin  and  looking,  I  thought, 
a  little  confused.    "For  did  you  ever  see  a  face  like 
mine?" 

"I — I  never  did!"  I  said  stammeringly,  for,  by 
Jove,  the  question  was  so  unexpected ;  but  I  knew  I 
said  it  earnestly  and  with  conviction  in  every  word. 

She  nodded.  "Never  got  a  chance  to  shave,  you 
know — caught  the  train  by  such  a  margin — and  my 
kit's  in  that  other  bag.  Guess  I'll  have  to  impose  on 
you  in  the  morning  for  one  of  your  razors." 

I  stared  at  her  in  horror. 

"Shave?   You  don't  shave?"    I  protested  blankly. 

"Myself,  you  mean?  Have  to;  I  haven't  got  a 
man  to  do  it  for  me."  She  seemed  to  sigh.  "Not  old 
enough  yet  to  have  a  man,  Jack  says." 

And  just  here  her  attention  seemed  to  center  on 
my  cellarette  over  in  the  corner. 

"Gee,  but  it's  warm  to-night,  isn't  it?"  she  re 
marked  absently. 

And  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  take  the  hint  or 
leave  it ;  and  after  all,  she  was  a  guest,  you  know ! 

50 


ARCADIAN    SIMPLICITY  51 

"Perhaps  you  will  permit  me  to  offer  you  some 
refreshment,"  I  suggested,  rising.  I  knew  it  sounded 
devilish  stiff;  and  I  knew,  moreover,  that  I  looked 
like  a  jolly  muff,  in  fact. 

"Perhaps  I  will,"  she  chuckled.  "Say,  don't  urge 
me  too  hard,  Mr.  Lightnut;  you  might  embarrass 
me." 

I  did  not  want  to  embarrass  her.  "I  thought  per 
haps  a  lemon  soda  would  refresh  you,"  I  explained. 
"Or,  if  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  have  Jenkins  make 
you  one  of  his  famous  seltzer  lemonades.  Perhaps, 
though,  you  would  prefer  just  a  plain — 

I  halted  in  confusion,  for  she  was  laughing 
at  me. 

"A  plain  cup  of  tea,"  she  gurgled,  "or  a  crcme 
de  menthe!"  And  then  her  laughter  burst  deliciously. 
"Say,  do  you  know,  honestly,  I'm  only  just  getting 
on  to  that  dry  humor  of  yours.  You've  had  me 
fooled.  You  do  it  with  such  a  serious  face,  you 
know.  Say,  it's  great!" 

I  tried  to  smile,  but  I  knew  it  was  a  devilish  sickly 
go — the  more  so,  because  just  at  that  moment  her 
slender  fingers  discarded  the  remnant  of  her  last 
cigarette  and  reached  for  a  cigar.  Another  instant, 
and  she  had  deftly  clipped  and  lighted  it. 

I  decided  I  wouldn't  ring  for  Jenkins. 

I  felt  ashamed  as  I  looked  in  the  cellarette,  and 
wondered  what  the  deuce  I  should  offer  her. 
Couldn't  think  of  anything  I  had  ever  heard  of 
boarding-school  girls  going  in  for  except  ice-cream 


52  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

soda ;  and,  dash  it,  I  didn't  have  any  ice-cream  soda. 
Nearest  thing  would  be  a  little  seltzer  and  ginger 
ale.  That  would  do. 

"Oh,  I  say,  I'm  going  to  make  you  a  highball,"  I 
said,  trying  to  assume  a  frisky,  jocular  air. 

Her  voice  lifted  in  alarm.  "Nay,  nay,  Clarence — 
not  for  me!"  she  urged  hastily. 

"But  it's  only—" 

"No  fizzy  adulterations  in  mine — not  on  your 
life."  She  followed  me  across  the  room.  "Just  give 
me  the  straight,  pure  goods — anything,  just  so  it's 
whisky." 

And  before  I  could  say  a  word — if,  indeed,  I 
could  have  said  a  word — she  had  selected  a  decanter 
of  Scotch,  and  with  cigar  tilted  upward  in  her  tender 
mouth,  was  absorbingly  pouring  a  shining  stream 
of  the  amber  fluid. 

To  see  the  slow  curving  of  that  delicately  molded 
wrist,  the  challenging  flash  of  the  saucy  eyes  of  blue., 
by  Jove,  it  made  me  just  forget  all  about  what  she- 
was  doing  till  the  fluid  ran  over  the  brim.  And* 
then,  before  I  could  intercept  her,  she  had  lightly 
gestured  her  glass  to  mine,  and  in  a  flash  the  stuff 
was  gone. 

Gone !  A  full  whisky  glass ;  and  I  recalled  with  a. 
shiver  of  horror  that  it  was  very  high  proof  liquor 
— something  I  seldom  touched  myself,  but  kept  on 
hand  for  certain  of  my  friends. 

"I  say,   you  know!"  I  gasped  in  consternation. 


ARCADIAN    SIMPLICITY  53 

"I'm  awfully  afraid  that  will — er — will—  '  I  gulped 
wordlessly. 

The  coral  lips  curved  scornfully. 

"Get  me  jingled?"  She  looked  as  she  might  have 
if  I  had  insulted  her.  "Maybe  so  in  those  girlie- 
girlie  days  you  were  trying  to  josh  me  about,  but  not 
since  these  two  years  I've  been  at  college."  She 
shook  her  lovely,  bright  head,  and  following  a  long 
enjoyable  pull  at  the  cigar,  projected  five  perfect 
rings  at  a  frescoed  cherub  in  the  ceiling.  The  ex 
quisite  eyes  softened  dreamily  as  under  the  spell  of 
some  pleasing  thought — some  tender  reminiscence. 

"Why,  do  you  know,"  she  said,  looking  at  me 
earnestly,  "when  I  was  home  for  the  holidays — 
Then  she  paused.    "Don't  tell  Brother  Jack  I  told 
you  this — will  you,  Mr.  Lightnut  ?  He's  so  sensitive 
about  it." 

"Certainly  not,"  I  said  feelingly. 

I  thought  the  wistful  face  brightened. 

"Well,  when  I  was  home,  then,  I  put  Brother 
Jack  under  the  table  two  nights  running;  and  you 
know  that's  going  some!" 

And  smiling  proudly,  she  poured  out  another! 
But  not  any  more,  for  I  put  away  the  decanter. 

My  brain  was  reeling,  as  they  say  in  books ;  dash 
it,  I  was  almost  sick.  Poor,  poor  little  girl!  And 
nobody  to  remonstrate  with  her.  What  a  shame— 
what  a  shame! 

By  Jove,  I  wondered  if  she  would  listen  to  me! 


54  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

I  fixed  my  glass  resolutely  as  we  resumed  our  seats, 
and  bent  toward  her  earnestly. 

"May  I  say  something  very  seriously,  Miss  Bill 
ings?"  I  began  nervously.  "Without  offense,  you 
know — " 

But  she  was  off  in  a  fit  of  chuckling.  Most  girls 
giggled,  I  had  always  heard,  but  she  chuckled. 
Somehow,  I  liked  it  less  than  anything  she  did ;  it 
sounded  so  devilish  ghastly,  you  know.  And  then 
it  was  so  awfully  embarrassing — oh,  awfully.  If 
you've  never  tried  to  remonstrate  with  a  girl  about 
her  vicious  habits  and  had  her  chuckle,  you  just 
can't  imagine!  I  felt  my  cheeks  flushing  jolly  red 
and  looked  down,  and  then  I  had  to  look  somewhere 
else  quickly,  for  I  seemed  to  be  staring  rudely  at 
the  ends  of  the  pajamas,  where  her  feet,  as  the  poet 
chap  says,  "like  little  mice,  stole  in  and  out — "  only, 
in  this  case,  they  were  thrust  into  bedroom  slippers, 
that  looked  oddly  like  a  pair  of  my  own — but  miles 
and  miles  smaller. 

"Say,  do  you  know,"  she  was  chortling,  "the  way 
you  do  get  off  that  Willie  boy  sort  of  talk — oh!" 
And  she  placed  her  hand  to  her  side  as  she  laughed. 
"I  can  see  how  Jack  thinks  you're  the  greatest  ever, 
Mr.  Lightnut." 

She  leaned  forward  eagerly. 

"Look  here,  I  do  wi-sh  you  would  let  me  call  you 
'Dicky.'  " 

"Oh,  I  say — will  you?"  exnloded  from  my  mouth. 


ARCADIAN    SIMPLICITY  '55 

"Will  I?"  Her  look  made  my  blood  leap.  "You 
just  watch  me — Dicky!  Oh,  say,  this  is  great; 
maybe  it  won't  take  a  fall  out  of  old  Jack — always 
bragging  that  you  allow  only  two  or  three  to  call 
you  that." 

"I  hope  you  will  always  call  me  Dicky,"  I  said — 
and  said  it  very  softly.  By  Jove,  I  could  hardly 
keep  from  taking  her  hand ! 

"You  bet  I  think  it's  awfully  good  of  you,  Light- 
nut — I  mean,  Dicky."  Then  her  face  grew  pensive. 
"Say,  do  you  know,  I  need  a  friend  like  you — just 
now,  I  mean — oh,  worst  kind." 

"Do  you?"  I  said  eagerly,  and  hitched  nearer. 
She  proceeded: 

"Haven't  you  had  things  sometimes  you  wanted 
to  talk  about  to  somebody — well,  things  you  couldn't 
just  tell  to  your  brother  or  sisters — oh,  nor  even  your 
room-mate?  You  understand." 

I  wasn't  sure  that  I  did,  for  she  was  blushing 
furiously,  and  in  her  eyes  was  an  appeal. 

By  Jove,  some  jolly  love  affair,  I  guessed  sud 
denly.  My  heart  just  sank  like  a  lump  of  what's-its- 
name,  but  my  whole  soul  went  out  in  sympathy  for^ 
her.  I  made  up  my  mind,  then  and  there,  to  put  my 
self  aside. 

"Devilish  glad — I  mean  delighted  to  have  you 
tell  me  anything,"  I  murmured  rather  weakly;  "tut 
— er — I  should  think  your  mother — 

"The  mater— tell  her!"   Her  hand  lifted.    "She'd 


56  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

guy  the  life  out  of  me!  Besides,  she's  in  Europe." 
She  paced  to  the  window  and  back. 

I  protested  indignantly :  "I  don't  see  how  any 
mother — " 

"Aw,  forget  it!"  she  broke  in,  and  I  winced  again 
at  slang  from  those  sweet  lips.  "No,  sir;  I'm  going 
to  unload  the  whole  thing  on  you,  or  nobody." 

And,  by  Jove,  the  next  thing  I  knew  she  had 
perched  on  the  broad  arm  of  the  Morris  chair  in 
which  I  sat,  her  arm  resting  lightly  above  my  shoul 
ders. 

"Here's  what  I  want  to  know  about,"  I  heard  her 
sigh.  "When  you're  engaged  to  one  person  and  meet 
another  you  like  better,  how  are  you  going  to — 
well,  chuck  it  with  the  first,  you  know — and  still  do 
the  square  thing?  There,  that's  what's  hit  me, 
Dicky;  and  I'm  up  against  it  for  fair!"  Her  hand 
gently  patted  my  shoulder.  "I'm  telling  you,  old 
chap,  because  I  know  you'll  understand — because  I 
like  you  better  than  any  man  I  ever  saw — that's 
right!" 

I  was  just  afraid  to  move!  Afraid  she'd  stop; 
afraid  she'd  go  on.  And  all  the  while  I  was  feeling 
happier  than  I  ever  had  in  all  my  life — happier  than 
I  ever  knew  people  could  be,  you  know.  I  never 
thought  her  bold — dash  it,  no — knew  it  was  just 
her  adorable,  delicious,  Arcadian  simplicity,  by 
Jove !  That  explained  it,  just  as  it  explained  to  me 
all  her  other  unconventionality. 


ARCADIAN    SIMPLICITY  57 

"So  now  it's  up  to  you,"  she  said,  "and  I  want  to 
know  what's  the  answer." 

The  answer! 

And  how  could  I  give  her  any  answer?  No,  by 
Jove,  I  knew  jolly  well  I  couldn't  take  advantage  of 
such  circumstances — of  her  artless  confession;  knew 
devilish  well  it  wouldn't  do,  you  know.  Might  re 
proach  me  in  years  to  come;  and  then — and  then, 
there  was  Billings ! 

So  I  just  contented  myself  with  looking  up  smil 
ingly,  but  it  was  hard — awfully,  awfully  hard,  dash 
it — and  I  just  felt  like  a  jolly  cad — or  fool.  Couldn't 
tell  which. 


CHAPTER  VII 

CONFIDENCES 

THIS  beautiful  creature  had  proposed  to  me! 
By  Jove,  that's  what  it  amounted  to  practi 
cally;  and  now,  as  she  said,  it  was  up  to  me.   Yet  I 
couldn't  say  a  word ! 

"Well,  what  must  I  do  about  the  other  one?"  she 
insisted. 

The  question  reminded  me  of  the  entanglement 
to  which  her  frank  simplicity  had  confessed.  And 
she  expected  me,  of  all  others,  to  tell  her  what  to  do ! 
I  looked  up  into  the  radiant,  crimsoned  face  as  she 
bent  forward  slightly,  her  lips  parted,  her  eyes  eager 
— expectant.  She  was  hanging  upon  my  reply. 

I  coughed  slightly.  "That  question  is  hardly  fair, 
you  know,"  I  said  meaningly.  "You  see,  it  hits  me 
rather  personally." 

"Oh!"  she  said. 

I  nodded  and  tried  to  find  her  hand  as  I  looked 
down. 

"So  that's  where  the  shoe  pinches!"  And  she 
whistled  thoughtfully. 

And  just  then  my  upward  reaching  hand  found 
hers.  And  yet  no,  it  couldn't  be  her  hand,  either ;  it 

58 


CONFIDENCES  59 

felt  like  the  crash  cover  of  the  cushion — rough  and 
fibrous.  And  yet,  by  Jove,  it  zuas  a  hand,  for  it  gave 
mine  a  grip  that  almost  broke  my  fingers  and  then 
dropped  them.  By  the  time  I  looked  up,  I  saw  only 
her  little  palm  resting  upward  on  her  knee. 

It  was  funny;  but  I  had  other  things  to  think 
about  than  puzzles. 

She  sighed.  "Well,  I'm  the  one  that  can  feel  for 
you,  Dicky."  Here  the  sigh  lifted  and  her  laugh 
pealed  like  a  chime  of  silver  bells.  "I  guess  Brother 
Jack  doesn't  know  as  much  about  your  affairs  as  he 
thinks,  does  he — eh?  Why,  he  told  me  you  were 
more  afraid  of  a  girl  than  of  a  mad  dog." 

And  a  slapping  grip  fell  on  my  shoulder  that  made 
me  tingle  from  head  to  toe.  And  yet  I  wished  she 
wouldn't  do  that;  if  she  did  it  again,  I  should  just 
lose  my  head — I  knew  I  should. 

But  here  she  rose,  stretched  her  arms,  and  dropped 
into  the  wicker  arm-chair.  She  hitched  it  nearer 
to  me. 

"You  see,  it's  like  this,"  she  began,  assuming  a 
confidential  air.  "You  know  my  sister's  up  at  school 
at  Cambridge,  too." 

"At  Radcliffe  College— yes."  I  nodded. 

"Why,  yes.    Well,  it's  her  room-mate !" 

"Eh  ?   I  don't  believe  I—  '   I  paused  perplexedly. 

"That's  right — her  room-mate,  I  tell  you !  And  in 
a  day  or  two  she's  coming  home  with  Sis  for  a  visit. 
I  want  you  to  come  up  for  a  week  end — won't  you — 
and  look  her  over — I  mean,  see  her  and  tell  me  what 


6o  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

you  think  of  her.  You'll  go  crazy  about  her — oh,  I 
know  you  will !" 

I  entered  a  protest.  "Oh,  I  say  now,  you  know, 
there's  only  one  girl  I  ever  saw  I  would  care  to  look 
at  twice." 

She  smiled  adorably.  "Oh,  don't  I  know  all  about 
how  you  feel  ?  But  I  just  want  you  to  see  this  girl 
—she's  the  prettiest  and  swellest  that's  been  around 
Boston  for  many  a  day;  and  on  Sunday  morning 
she  could  give  the  flag  to  all  the  Avenue.  Why, 
Dicky,  she's  from  China!" 

"China!"  I  must  have  looked  the  scorn  I  felt. 
"Oh,  come  now,  you  don't  think  a  Chinese  girl  is — 

"Not  Chinese,  Dicky."  In  her  eagerness,  she 
moved  so  near,  the  silk  of  her  pajamas  brushed  my 
hand.  "She's  English.  Her  dad's  the  British  Gov 
ernor  General  of  Hong  Kong — Colonel  Francis 
Kirkland,  you  know — beefy-looking  old  chap  with 
white  mutton  chops — I  saw  his  picture." 

Hong  Kong!  I  wondered  if  she  knew  Master- 
mann,  the  chap  who  had  sent  me  the  red  pajamas. 
Why,  dash  it,  of  course  she  would ;  for  this  fellow 
Mastermann  was  out  there  on  government  business, 
and  he  and  the  Governor  must  be  thrown  together  a 
good  deal. 

Her  musical  laugh  broke  in  on  my  speculations. 
"But  the  funniest  thing  is,  Dicky,  her  name's  the 
same  as  mine." 

Her  name!  By  Jove,  and  until  this  moment,  I 
had  not  thought — 


CONFIDENCES  61 

"Oh,  I  say,"  I  exclaimed  eagerly,  "what  is  your 
name,  anyway?" 

The  lustrous  eyes  opened  wide.  "Why,  you  mean 
to  say  you  don't  know?  Thought  you  knew  I  was 
named  after  the  governor.  And  she's  named  after 
hers — Frances,  from  Francis,  you  know — just  the 
difference  in  a  letter.  See?" 

"Frances!"  I  murmured  lingeringly.  "So  your 
name's  Frances?" 

"Yes,  and  hers  is  Frances — odd,  isn't  it  ?" 

I  assented,  but  I  wished  she  would  drop  the  other 
girl — I  wasn't  interested  there,  except  just  because 
she  was. 

Her  bosom  lifted  with  a  sigh.  "Don't  you  think 
Frances  is  a  peach  of  a  name  ?" 

"It's  heavenly!"  I  whispered.  "And  I'm  glad  to 
hear  about  your  friend,  too." 

Her  sweet  face  clouded.  "Not  much  of  a  friend; 
she  aon  t  lose  any  sleep  over  me,"  she  commented 
gloomily.  "Then  there's  Sis  double-crossing  me  with 
her  influence  ever  since  I  got  hauled  up  before 
Prexy  at  Easter.  Sis  is  awfully  prissy." 

Her  tone  was  almost  savage.  I  strained  incredu 
lously  after  her  meaning. 

"Did  I  understand  you  to  say  you  were  brought 
up  before  the  president  there  at  Radcliffe?" 

"Radcliffe?"  Her  head  shook.  "No— Harvard." 
And  I  nodded,  recalling  the  affiliation  between  the 
two  institutions  at  Cambridge. 

I  wondered  what  silly,  tyrannical  straining  of  red 


62  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

tape  discipline  on  some  one's  part  had  subjected  this 
sensitive,  refined  girl  to  the  humiliating  ordeal  of 
having  to  appear  before  the  president  of  the  college. 
Probably  for  plucking  some  trashy  flower,  or,  at  the 
worst,  looking  twice  at  some  sappy  freshman  ac 
quaintance  waving  his  hand  from  a  frat  house. 

"By  Jove,  a  devilish  shame !"  I  ejaculated. 

"I  should  say!"  Her  voice  was  aggrieved.  "All 
for  a  measly  prize  fight." 

"Prize  fight !"  I  gasped. 

She  nodded  brightly.  "Oh,  a  modest  one,  you 
know — not,  of  course,  a  Jeffries-Johnson  affair,  but 
I  tell  you  we  had  them  going  some  for  a  round  and 
a  half.  Athletics  is  my  long  suit — just  you  feel  those 
biceps."  And  with  sudden  movement  she  swept  up 
ward  the  wide,  silken  sleeve,  showing  a  limb  like 
the  lost  arm  of  the  Venus  de  what's-its-name. 

"Go  on — just  feel  it,"  she  commanded,  flexing  the 
arm. 

"I— I—"   And  I  gulped  and  balked. 

"Feel  it,  I  tell  you!"  And  I  did. 

And  then  I  almost  fell  over,  I  received  such  a 
shock.  For  my  fingers  seemed  to  be  clasping,  not 
the  soft,  rounded  contour  I  beheld,  but  a  great 
massed  protuberance,  hard  and  unyielding  as  a 
bunch  of  dried  putty.  My  fingers  could  not  half 
span  it. 

I  jerked  them  away,  bewildered. 

"Wonderful,"  I  said  faintly,  and  I  batted  perplex 
edly  at  the  exquisite,  symmetrical  arm. 


CONFIDENCES  63 

"Oh,  that's  nothing,"  she  said  indifferently,  jerk 
ing  down  her  sleeve.  "I'm  a  little  undertrained  now ; 
been  putting  in  all  my  time  on  leg  work.  That's 
what  counts  in  foot-ball. 

"Foot-ball!"  I  questioned,  astonished.  "Why,  I 
didn't  know — " 

"That  I  was  on  the  team?  Surest  thing  you  know ; 
that's  why  I've  got  all  this  mop  of  hair — comes  be 
low  my  collar — see  ?" 

Her  collar,  indeed !  It  was  easy  to  see  that,  if  un 
bound,  it  would  reach  considerably  below  her  waist. 
But  foot-ball!  Why,  she  must  mean  basket-ball,  of 
course.  I  opened  my  mouth  to  remind  her,  when  she 
proceeded : 

"But  I  was  going  to  tell  you  about  this  prize  fight. 
Well,  this  fight  was  just  a  little  one,  you  know. 
Purse  of  eighteen  dollars;  and  we  had  to  chip  in 
afterward  with  an  extra  three  to  get  Mug  Kelly — 
that's  the  Charlestown  Pet,  you  know — to  stand  the 
gaff  for  a  second  round.  Why,  he  was  all  in  on  the 
count  at  the  end  of  the  first  round — what  do  you 
think  of  that?" 

"But  I  say,  you  know—  '  I  began,  but  she  lifted 
her  hand. 

"I  know — I  know  what  you're  going  to  say, 
Dicky;  you  think  we  were  a  bunch  of  easy  marks, 
that's  what  you  think.  But  how  could  we  tell  what 
my  room-mate  was  going  to  do  to  the  Pet — we 
couldn't,  you  know." 

"Your  room-mate !"  I  exclaimed  aghast.   "A — an 


64  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

other  young  lady — in  a  pugilistic  encounter?  Oh, 
I  say!" 

She  chuckled.  "G'long;  stop  your  kidding!"  And 
she  kicked  playfully  at  me.  Then  she  assumed  a 
mincing  air — finger  on  chin,  lips  pursed,  and  eyes 
rolling  upward,  you  know. 

"Yes,  another  sweet  young  peacherino — Miss  Bil 
lings'  little  room-mate — a  beef  that  hits  the  beam 
at  about  two-sixty — Little  Lizzie,  you  know." 

"Lizzie!"  I  repeated  vaguely. 

"Oh,  say,  Dicky,  cut  it  out;  let  me  finish.  Well, 
another  minute,  and  the  Pet  would  have  been  put 
to  sleep,  but  just  then  the  coppers  nailed  us."  She, 
added  gloomily :  "And  that's  what  queered  me  with 
Sis.  Fierce,  ain't  it?" 

She  sighed  and  her  beautiful  lashes  drooped 
sadly.  By  Jove,  I  was  so  jolly  floored  I  couldn't 
manage  a  word.  I  knew,  of  course,  that  my  heart 
was  broken,  but  it  didn't  matter.  I  loved  her  just  the 
same;  I  should  always  love  her;  and  she  had  tried 
to  let  me  know  she  loved  me  better  than  any  man  she 
had  ever  met.  What  the  deuce  did  anything  else  mat 
ter,  anyhow?  We  would  marry  and  go  out  on  a 
ranch  or  something  of  that  sort,  where  the  false, 
polished  what-you-call-it  of  civilization  didn't  count, 
and  no  rude  rebuff  or  sneer  of  society  would  ever 
chill  her  warm  impulsiveness. 

She  smiled  archly.  "See  here,  Dicky,  I  thought 
we  were  going  to  tell  each  other  the  story  of  our 
lives.  Your  turn  now ;  tell  me  how  she  looks  to  you,! 


CONFIDENCES  65 

this  girl  that  came  at  last — there's  always  the  one 
girl  comes  at  last,  they  say,  if  you  wait  long  enough. 
Go  on — tell  me — what's  she  like?" 

"Of  course,  you  don't  know!"  I  said  significantly. 

"Me?  Of  course  I  wouldn't  know — I  want  you 
to  tell  me.  Say,  is  she  really  so  pretty?" 

"Pretty,"  indeed !  It  was  like  this  adorable  child 
of  nature  not  to  understand  that  she  was  the  most 
perfect  and  faultless  creation  on  earth! 

I  leaned  toward  her.  "Is  she  pretty?"  I  repeated 
•reproachfully. 

She  eyed  me  slyly. 

"Oh,  of  course  I  know  how  you  feel,"  she  said, 
"but  draw  me  a  picture  of  her." 

"A  picture!"  I  laughed.  "All  right,  here  goes: 
Eighteen,  'a  daughter  of  the  gods,  divinely  tall  and 
most  divinely  fair' — that  sort  of  thing.  Features 
-classic — perfect  oval,  you  know,  and  profile  to  set 
an  artist  mad  with  joy.  Eyes?  Blue  as  Hebe's,  but 
big  and  true  and  tender;  hair,  a  great,  shining  nug 
get  of  virgin  gold.  Form  divine — the  ideal  of  a 
poet's  dream — the  alluring,  the  elusive,  the  unattain 
able,  the  despair  of  the  sculptor's  chisel." 

"My!"  said  Miss  Billings,  staring. 

But  I  was  not  through.  "Complexion  ?  Her  skin 
as  smooth  as  the  heart  of  a  seashell  and  as  delicately 
warm  as  its  rosy  blush  when  kissed  by  the  amorous 
tide." 

"Gee !"  ejaculated  my  darling. 

I  looked  at  her  closely.    "And  in  one  matchless 


66  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

cheek  a  dimple  divine  such  as  might  have  been  left 
by  the  barbed  arrow  of  Cupid  when  it  awoke  Psyche 
from  her  swoon  of  death.  In  short,  she  might  be 
the  dainty  fairy  princess  of  our  childhood  fantasies, 
were  she  less  superb  in  figure.  On  the  other  hand, 
she  might  be  the  sunny-haired  daughter  of  a  Viking 
king,  were  she  not  too  delicately  featured  and 
molded." 

That  was  all  I  could  remember  from  the  descrip 
tion  as  I  had  read  it  in  a  novel,  but  I  was  glad  I  had 
stored  it  up,  by  Jove,  for  it  suited  her  to  a  dot.  She 
didn't  say  a  word  for  a  moment,  but  just  sat  there 
eying  me  kind  of  sidewise,  her  little  upper  lip  lifted 
in  an  odd  way.  Then  of  a  sudden  she  shook  her  head 
and  swung  her  knees  up  over  the  arm  of  her  chair. 

"Well,  Dicky,  as  a  describer  you  sure  are  the 
slushy  spreader.  Say,  you've  got  Eleanor  Glyn 
backed  off  the  boards." 

She  went  on  eagerly:  "I  don't  care,  though; 
slushy  or  not,  your  picture's  just  perfect  for  her. 
Why,  your  girl  must  be  a  ringer  for  the  girl  at  Rad- 
cliffe.  Only  thing  you  left  out  was  the  freckle  on  the 
chin." 

Freckle  on  the  chin !  By  Jove,  I  left  it  out  on  pur 
pose,  for  I  thought  she  might  not  like  it.  I  won 
dered  if  all  girls  at  Radcliffe  had  freckles  on  the 
chin. 

She  lay  back,  regarding  me  inscrutably.  "If  she 
looks  like  that,"  she  sighed,  "you  ought  to  love  her 
very  much,  Dicky." 


CONFIDENCES  67 

I  couldn't  say  anything,  for  words  are  so  deuced 
inadequate,  you  know.  But  I  just  made  an  effort  to 
look  it  all. 

"Of  course,"  sighing,  "you  ought  to  feel  that 
way ;  and,  another  thing,  Dicky :  you'll  never  forget 
where  you  first  saw  her,  will  you?  One  of  the  things 
one  never  forgets." 

"Right  in  this  room,"  I  murmured;  "and  in  that 
wicker  chair." 

"Really?"  Her  surprised  ejaculation  was  deli 
cious.  By  Jove,  how  entrancingly  coquettish  of  her! 
How  jolly  clever ! 

"Go  on ;  tell  me  how  she  was  dressed — never  mind 
any  more  picture  business;  just  tell  me  in  four  or 
five  words.  Bet  you  can't  do  it!"  She  slipped  over 
again  to  the  arm  of  my  chair. 

In  her  eyes  was  a  challenge  and  I  took  it  up. 

"In  black  silk  pajamas,"  I  said  daringly. 

Her  blue  eyes  opened  wide.  For  a  moment  I 
feared  she  would  be  offended  at  my  audacity,  but 
her  birdlike  carol  of  laughter  reassured  me. 

"Say,  you're  not  so  slow,  are  you?" 

And  her  hand  came  down  on  my  back  with  a  force 
that  made  me  jump. 

"Only  shows,"  she  gurgled  merrily,  "how  little 
Jack  knows  about  you.  Say,  you'd  better  never  tell 
him  about  those  black  pajamas!" 

She  spoke  chokingly  through  a  storm  of  laughter 
as  she  rocked  there  against  my  shoulder. 

"And  say — the  joke  of  it !"  She  banged  me  on  the 


68  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

back  with  a  clublike  blow,  incredible  from  that  little 
hand.  "The  joke  of  it  is,  he  thought  I'd  be  so  safe 
with  you !  Oh,  mamma !" 

And  off  she  went  again. 

I  shifted  uneasily.  I  did  not  like  it — her  merri 
ment  over  what  was  perfectly  obvious  and  rational. 
Of  course,  Billings  knew  she  would  be  safe.  Why 
the  deuce  shouldn't  he  ? 

But  the  matter  of  the  pajamas  was  another  thing. 
Her  receiving  me  in  them  was  a  contingency  I  could 
not  possibly  have  anticipated  and  avoided,  and  yet  a 
withdrawal  because  of  them  or  even  because  of  her 
presence  here  had  been  shown  to  be  a  course  inex 
plicable  to  her.  She  was  too  innocent,  too  ingenuous, 
too  ingenue  to  understand  that  I  was  invading  the 
sanctuary  of  her  privacy.  Yet  to  have  taken  any 
course  that  would  have  appeared  to  make  correction 
of  her  error  come  from  me  would  have  been  ap 
pallingly  caddish  and  cruel.  No,  the  best  course  had 
seemed  to  be  to  go  right  on — take  no  notice — and 
then,  as  soon  as  she  retired,  slip  away  to  the  club. 
That  seemed  the  gentlemanly  thing. 

Yet  now  her  words  implied  a  certain  conscious 
ness  that  her  brother  might  frown  upon  her  attire, 
might  even  visit  me  with  reproach.  I  was  troubled, 
and  her  next  speech  was  not  calculated  to  reassure 
me. 

"But  I'll — I'll  never  say  a  word,  Dicky,"  she  said, 
coming  out  of  her  laughter  and  panting  breathlessly. 


CONFIDENCES  69 

"Never!    And  don't  you,  Dicky — don't  you  ever! 
Understand?  Mum's  the  word!" 

I  looked  up  distressfully  to  protest,  but  her  little 
head  was  shaking  earnestly,  the  long,  delicate  hair 
wisps  about  her  forehead  wavering  like  tiny,  curling 
wreaths  of  golden  smoke. 

"No,  sir,"  she  emphasized  soberly;  "if  you  ever 
let  that  cat  out  of  the  bag,  it'll  be  all  up  with  me — I 
mean  Jack  will  never  let  me  come  again.  You  must 
promise  me." 

"But—" 

"Oh,  but  me  no  'buts' — promise!" 

"Why,  then — er — of  course,  if  you  wish  it." 

"That's  right,  because  I  want  to  come  again — 
that  is,  if  you  want  me.  But  if  Brother  Jack  was  on 
to  you,  Dicky,  as  I  am,  he  would  sooner  have  me  at 
a  hotel,  that's  all." 

"But  my  dear  Frances — 

"I  tell  you  I  know,  Dicky;  he  doesn't  approve  of 
young  ladies  in  pajamas."  She  chuckled.  "Not  even 
black  ones." 

She  stood  up,  looking  at  herself  and  performing  a 
graceful  pirouette  before  the  long  pier  glass. 

"Now,  if  they  had  been  crimson,"  she  proceeded, 
"he  might  have  felt  different.  Old  Jack's  great  on 
Harvard,  and  so  am  I." 

Of  course.   All  Radcliffe  girls  were,  I  knew. 

By  Jove,  how  I  wished  I  could  show  her  the 
lovely  crimson  pajamas  Mastermann  had  sent  me 


70  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

from  China !  But  I  would  have  to  summon  Jenkins 
to  find  them,  and  besides,  it  would  be  of  question 
able  taste  to  present  them  to  her  attention. 

"Great  idea,  this,  having  pajamas  in  your  college 
colors,"  she  said.  I  thought  so,  too,  as  I  noted  ad 
miringly  the  rich  effect  of  her  golden  head  above 
the  black  silk.  But  I  thought  the  color  a  devilish 
odd  one — somber,  you  know — for  colors  of  a  young 
girl's  school. 

"My!  my!"  she  murmured,  "wouldn't  I  just  love 
to  live  in  pajamas — just  go  about  in  'em  all  the  time, 
you  know!  Why  can't  we,  I  wonder?"  Her  face 
flashed  me  a  ravishing  smile ;  and  while  I  was  blink 
ing  over  her  question,  she  went  on:  "Funny  how 
the  girls  even  are  taking  to  'em — even  Sis  wears 
'em!"  She  chuckled:  "Hers  are  gray  flanneilette. 
But  the  girl  I'm  telling  you  about — she  don't;  Sis 
told  the  mater  about  it.  It  seems  that  before  she 
left  China,  some  high  muck-a-muck  gave  her  gov 
ernor  a  swell  pair  of  silk  ones — something  like  these, 
I  guess,  but  I  don't  know  of  what  color.  But,  any 
how,  they  were  too  delicate  and  fine  to  be  wasted  on 
an  old  stiff  like  that,  and  he  had  sense  enough  to 
know  it.  So  he  passed  'em  down  the  line  to  her — 
Frances,  you  know.  Well,  sir—  Here  she  sidled 
to  the  table  and  half  leaned,  half  perched,  upon  its 
edge;  and  I  was  so  distracted  watching  her  grace 
ful  poise  and  gestures,  that  I  lost  what  she  was 
saying,  by  Jove. 

It  was  her  trill  of  laughter  at  something  she  had 


CONFIDENCES  71 

said,  and  the  question:  "Wasn't  that  funny?"  that 
brought  me  back  to  what  she  was  telling  me. 

"Yes,  sir — said  she  just  scared  her  maid — oh, 
batty!  Because  she  looked  so  ugly  in  'em — that's 
what  she  thinks,  but  of  course — shucks!  Anyhow, 
she  never  wore  'em  any  more,  and  a  day  or  two  later 
some  coolie  stole  them — sold  'em  probably." 

Suddenly  she  yawned,  stretched  her  arms  above 
her  head,  and  flashed  me  a  dazzling  smile.  By  Jove, 
in  the  loose-fitting  garments  she  looked  for  all  the 
world  like  an  Oriental  houri,  or  some  jolly  lovely 
thing  like  that. 

"Gee,  but  I'm  sleepy!"  she  said  behind  her  little 
hand.  "If  you'll  excuse  me,  Dicky,  I  believe  it  will 
be  off  to  the  springs — the  bed  springs,  for  little 
Frankie.  Good  night,  then.  See  you  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

And  with  another  radiant  smile,  she  moved  toward 
her  room. 

"Good  night,"  I  said  wistfully. 

By  Jove,  somehow  I  had  hoped  she  would  offer  to 
kiss  me,  now  that  we  were  engaged  in  a  way.  But 
then,  of  course,  it  wouldn't  do — she  knew  that.  So 
ought  I.  Perhaps  in  the  morning  at  the  boat ! 

And  the  door  closed  behind  her.  I  stood  blinking 
after  her  a  moment;  then  I  fixed  my  attention 
gloomily  upon  the  cellarette.  Poor  little  girl  and  her 
foolish — but  adorably  foolish — college  bravado! 
Sorrowfully  I  locked  the  cellarette  and  dropped  the 
key  in  my  pocket. 


72  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

Then  I  locked  the  outer  doors  of  the  hall  and 
apartment,  leaving  the  keys  unmolested  on  the  in 
side.  On  the  whole  I  decided  I  would  not  have  up 
the  janitor's  gossipy  wife. 

Next  I  sought  Jenkins  at  the  back. 

"We  will  lock  up  back  here,  Jenkins,  and  go  over 
to  my  rooms  at  the  club  for  the  night." 

Jenkins  stared  fixedly  over  my  head.  "Certainly, 
sir." 

"And  Jenkins — h'm!"  I  crumpled  a  bill  into  his 
mechanical  palm.  "You  will  never  allude  to  having 
seen  that  sweet — urn — you  understand,  Jenkins? 
Never  seem  to  remember,  even  to  me,  that  you  ever 
saw  any  one  up  here  to-night." 

"Certainly  not,  sir,"  indignantly.  "I  wouldn't, 
anyhow." 

Yet  his  eyes,  rolling  back  from  the  ceiling,  seemed 
to  hold  me  oddly  for  an  instant.  In  them  was  a 
touch  of  sadness. 

"But  may  I  speak  of  that  Mr.  Billings,  sir?  You 
know,  if  he  comes — 

"Jenkins!"  sharply. 

"Certainly,  sir!"   Jenkins'  mouth  closed,  traplike. 

But  all  in  vain  my  early  rise  the  next  morning, 
my  careful  toilet  and  my  dash  in  a  taxi  to  a  florist 
and  then  to  Tiffany's  for  a  ring.  At  the  pier  I 
dodged  about  in  the  crowd,  the  boy  trailing  behind 
me  with  the  big  purple  box,  but  not  a  devilish  thing 
could  I  see  of  Frances.  By  Jove,  I  almost  broke  my 
monocle  straining!  At  last  I  was  sure  she  must  be 


CONFIDENCES  73 

left,  for  the  last  passengers  were  passing  over  the 
gang-plank. 

"Hello,  Dicky!" 

The  voice,  coarse  and  hearty,  came  from  an 
athletic  young  man  in  a  hurrah  suit.  On  his  head, 
perched  jauntily  above  a  mass  of  yellow  hair,  was  a 
straw  hat  with  a  crimson  band. 

I  stared  at  him  through  my  glass,  but  it  was  not 
any  one  I  knew  at  all.  I  looked  at  him  coldly,  for 
there's  nothing  so  devilish  annoying  as  familiarities 
from  strangers.  I  thought  I  could  freeze  him  off. 

But  he  only  grinned.  "Looking  for  Miss  Bill 
ings?" 

"I — I  haven't  seen  her,"  I  answered  stiffly.  But 
his  question  alarmed  me. 

He  chuckled  in  my  face.  "Guess  you  don't  know 
her  in  her  clothes,  eh,  Dicky?"  And  I  did  not  need 
the  punch  he  gave  me  in  the  side  to  make  me  stag 
ger  backward.  "A  thousand  thanks,  and  good-by, 
old  chap.  I  see  they're  hauling  in  the  plank." 

He  lingered  for  one  bearlike  grab  at  my  hand. 

"And  say,  don't  forget — for  I  know  Jack  Billings 
better  than  you  do — don't  ever  let  him  know  about 
all  that  Scotch  last  night." 

He  called  over  his  shoulder  with  a  grin :  "Keep 
it  dark — as  dark  as  those  black  pajamas,  Dicky!" 

And  as  long  as  I  could  see,  he  stood  on  the  deck, 
waving  his  hat  at  me  as  I  stood  there  with  my 
mouth  open,  my  eyes  following  him  with  horror. 

By  Jove,  who  was  he,  and  what  did  he  know  ? 


CHAPTER  VIII 

HER    BROTHER    JACK 

OOD  night,  Dicky!"  came  up  the  elevator 
shaft.  And  then  more  "good  nights,"  grow 
ing  fainter  with  their  laughter  as  the  car  shot  down. 

"Good  night,"  I  called  after  them.  "Devilish 
sorry  you  fellows  won't  stay  longer!" 

"Jolly  good  lie,  Jenkins,"  I  said,  yawning  sleepily, 
as  I  dropped  back  into  my  own  apartment. 

"Yes,  sir,"  assented  Jenkins  demurely.  "It's  sleep 
ing  on  the  divan  the  other  night,  sir.  Eight  hours 
there  ain't  nothing  like  eight  hours  in  bed  and  in 
your  pajamas." 

"Pajamas !"  I  ejaculated,  startled. 

For  all  day  I  had  been  thinking  of  her.  I  won 
dered  if  Billings  would  happen  to  think  to  invite  me 
up  for  the  week  end.  But  he  had  so  many  times,  and 
I  had  never  gone. 

"By  Jove,  that  reminds  me,"  I  said.  "Those  red 
silk  pajamas!" 

"Yes,  sir."  Jenkins'  face  hardened  in  an  odd, 
wooden  way. 

"I  was  wondering,  Jenkins,  if  those  pajamas  were 
torn  any  in  our  little  row  the  other  night." 

74 


HER    BROTHER   JACK  75 

Poor  Jenkins  winced  a  little.  "I  think  not,  sir," 
he  muttered  humbly — "leastwise,  they  were  all  right 
last  night  when  Mr. — "  He  seemed  to  catch  him 
self  abruptly.  "I  mean  when  I  found  them  this 
morning,  sir." 

He  returned  with  the  garments  I  had  received 
from  Mastermann,  and  again  we  spread  them  under 
the  lamp  on  the  table.  They  looked  singularly 
smooth  and  unwrinkled.  There  was  not  a  single  tear 
or  break,  not  even  with  the  delicate  cords  that 
twisted  to  form  the  frogs  of  the  coat. 

"My,  sir!  But  ain't  they  red!"  breathed  Jenkins. 
"Them  cords  look  like  little  red  snakes." 

I  cut  an  anxious  glance  at  Jenkins,  for  I  did  not 
like  his  reference  to  snakes.  Seemed  ominous,  some 
how.  But  his  appearance  was  composed  and  reas 
suring.  And,  by  Jove,  come  to  look,  the  cords  did 
look  just  like  tiny,  coiled  serpents  of  glowing  fire. 
Why,  they  were  so  jolly  red  they  hurt  your  eyes. 
Fact!  And  thin  as  the  beautiful  stuff  was,  this 
brighter  red  ran  all  over  the  other,  covering  every 
inch  of  it  and  forming  the  closest,  finest  what-you- 
call-it  embroidery.  It  was  as  faint  and  dainty  a 
pattern  as  that  on  a  soap  bubble!  Fact  is,  I  could 
not  trace  it,  even  with  my  glass. 

The  only  part  that  wasn't  covered  with  this  em 
broidery  business  was  the  stuff  used  to  cover  the 
knots,  or  little  balls,  over  which  the  cords  were 
meant  to  hook.  In  working  with  some  of  these 
cords,  idly  fastening  and  unfastening  them,  I  got  a 


76  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

little  impatient  with  one  that  seemed  tight,  you 
know,  and  I  used  my  manicure  knife  to  pull  the 
knot  through. 

"Careful,  sir,"  warned  Jenkins.  "Likely  to  cut 
something." 

By  Jove !   No  sooner  said,  than  I  did  it ! 

The  dashed  blade  slipped  somehow  and  cut  into 
the  threads  that  tied  the  covers  or  caps  or  whatever- 
you-call-'ems,  over  the  knots.  And  when  I  pulled, 
the  beastly  piece  of  silk  came  off  in  my  fingers. 

And  then — oh,  but  I  say!  I  just  gave  a  sort  of 
yell  and  dropped  the  whole  thing! 

Ever  have  some  silly  ass  try  to  scare  you  by  pok 
ing  a  red  hot  cigar  at  you  in  the  dark?  Know  how 
you  jerk  back?  Well,  there  you  are!  For,  give  you 
my  word,  when  I  peeled  off  the  little  cloth  cap,  regu 
lar  blazes  of  crimson  fire  seemed  to  shoot  from  the 
end  of  the  knot. 

Fact  is,  it  wasn't  a  knot  at  all,  but  a  button — a 
devilish  glassy  button,  something  bigger  than  a 
dime,  perhaps,  and  thick  as  the  end  of  your  little; 
ringer.  And  there  it  lay  against  the  silk,  burning 
its  way  through  it  like  a  red  coal  of  fire. 

Dashed  if  it  didn't  look  that  way,  anyhow.  I  just 
sat  there  blinking  like  a  jolly  owl,  waiting  to  see  the 
stuff  begin  to  smoke,  before  I  had  presence  of  mind 
to  tell  Jenkins  to  touch  it  to  see  if  it  would  burn. 

But  Jenkins  wouldn't.  He  just  stood  there  with 
his  jaw  hanging  and  his  eyes  bulging  like  champagne 
corks ! 


HER    BROTHER   JACK  77 

And  it  was  just  then  that  Billings  rolled  in. 

I  say  "rolled  in/'  because  it  always  looks  that 
way.  That's  the  way  Billings  is  built,  you  know. 

"I  say,  Dicky,"  he  panted,  "just  missed  another 
infernal  express!  Plenty  more  trains,  but  I  had  a 
great  inspiration  strike  me  that  I'd  let  you  put  me  up 
for  the  night.  Hat,  Jenkins !  Now,  don't  say  a  word, 
Dicky,  old  chap.  Cane,  Jenkins!  Great  pleasure, 
assure  you — won't  inconvenience  me  at  all.  Gloves, 
Jenkins!  Just  give  me  something  to  sleep  in,  and 
I'll  be  as  comfortable  here  as  I  would  be  at  the  club 
— so  don't  worry  any  about  me,  old  chap.  By  the 
way,  want  to  thank  you  for  taking  care  of  the  kid. 
Got  home  all  right,  I  understand." 

He  plunked  like  a  jolly  elephant  into  the  largest 
and  most  comfortable  chair  in  the  room  and 
wheezed  for  breath. 

"And,  Jenkins!"  He  raised  one  fat  ringer  while 
he  took  a  gasp.  "Don't  mind  if  I  do  have  a  package 
of  Dicky's  Koroskos  and  a  sloe  fizz — not  too  sweet, 
you  know ;  and  you  may — 

He  halted,  his  eyes  suddenly  riveted  to  the  table, 
and  straightened  inquiringly,  his  big  hands  poised 
upon  the  padded  arms  of  the  chair. 

"Suffering  Thomas  cats!  What's  that?"  he  ex 
claimed.  "The  scream  there — flag  of  Morocco?" 

And  then,  without  pausing  for  reply,  he  dashed 
on: 

"I  say,  old  chap,  if  you're  picking  up  those,  I  can 
get  you  a  few  for  nothing.  You  know  Higgins, 


78  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

cashier-that-was  of  the  Widows'  National,  eh? 
Well,  Higgins  sent  the  governor  a  Morocco  flag  the 
other  clay  from  Tangier.  Fact  is,  he  sent  one  to 
every  director  of  the  bank — and  an  extra  large  one 
to  that  bank  examiner!" 

He  chuckled  wabblingly,  like  a  jolly  jellyfish. 

"Talk  about  a  red  flag  to  a  bull,"  he  exploded, 
"why,  they—" 

Billings  broke  off  suddenly.  Then  he  climbed 
heavily  to  his  feet,  and  without  warning,  heaved 
himself  across  the  room  and  seized  the  button  I  had 
just  uncovered.  Dashed  if  he  didn't  almost  upset 
me. 

"Here,  I  say!"  I  protested.  "Don't  lose  that  cap." 
I  picked  it  up  from  where  he  had  jerked  it  to  the 
floor.  "It's  the  cover  to  hide  that  glass,  you  know." 

"Wh-a-a-t!" 

Billings  swung  round,  staring  at  me  with  the 
most  curious  expression. 

"See  here,  Dicky,"  he  exclaimed  rather  excitedly, 
but  in  a  low  tone,  as  he  cut  a  side  glance  at  Jenkins 
siphoning  the  fizz  over  at  the  cellarette.  "What  in 
thunder  have  you  been  doing  now  ?" 

By  Jove,  I  turned  cold  for  a  minute,  I  was  that 
startled.  I  thought  he  was  going  to  use  the  pajamas 
as  an  introduction  for  reference  to  last  night.  But 
in  a  minute  I  saw  that  he  did  not  mean  that. 

"Where  on  earth  did  you  get  anything  like  this?" 
And  he  held  up  the  button  and  the  garment. 

"Oh,  I  say  now!"  I  remonstrated,  alarm  changing 


HER    BROTHER    JACK  79 

to  a  mild  dudgeon.  Billings'  devilish  rude  manners 
are  so  offensive  at  times.  "What  do  you  mean  ?  It's 
a  present  from  a  friend  in  China." 

"Present!"  Billings'  eyes  bulged  queerly.  He 
stooped  toward  me,  whispering:  "Did  he  know 
what  this  button  was?" 

"Why,  of  course  he  didn't,"  I  answered  indig 
nantly.  "Never  dreamed  of  it,  of  course.  I  tell 
you,  it  was  all  nicely  covered,  was  what-you-call-it 
— upholstered,  you  know — with  devilish  nice  silk. 
I  cut  it  off  accidentally,  trying  to  force  the  thing 
through  that  loop.  That  left  the  marble  exposed." 

Billings  took  the  glass  mechanically  from  the  tray 
tendered  by  Jenkins  and  sipped  it  slowly,  eying  me 
curiously  over  the  top.  Then  he  set  it  back,  very 
deliberately,  wiped  his  mouth  with  the  bit  of  napery, 
and  without  taking  his  glance  from  me,  waited  until 
Jenkins  had  left  the  room.  Whereupon,  after  an 
other  searching  look  at  the  button,  he  dropped  it 
with  the  garment  upon  the  table,  and  with  hands 
jammed  deep  in  his  pockets,  faced  me  with  a  long- 
drawn  whistle. 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged!"  he  exclaimed.  Just  a 
coarse,  vulgar  outburst,  you  know — no  sense  to  it; 
no  point  at  all,  you  know — that's  Billings. 

He  caught  up  the  coat  again.  "And  these  others 
• — four  of  them — are  they  just  the  same?"  he  de 
manded  sharply. 

"Dash  it,  how  should  I  know?  I  suppose  so,"  I 
answered  indifferently.  And  I  closed  my  eyes  and 


8o  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

leaned  back,  feeling  a  bit — just  a  bit — weary.  Some 
how,  Billings  is  always  so  exhausting  when  he  gets 
started  on  something. 

"Oh,  cut  it  out,  old  chap,"  I  protested,  drowsy- 
like. 

"I  will,"  I  heard  him  say.  Then  I  guess  I  must 
have  dropped  off  a  bit,  for  the  next  thing  I  knew 
he  was  shaking  me. 

"Dicky!  Dicky!  Say,  look  here!  Look,  I  tell 
you!" 

I  did  look,  and — well,  I  was  jolly  vexed,  that's 
all. 

"Oh,  I  say  now!"  I  spoke  severely — just  that 
way,  you  know.  I  went  on,  remonstrating :  "Devil 
ish  silly  joke,  if  you  ask  me.  You've  gone  and  ruined 
the  thing,  Billings!  Flashy  buttons  like  that,  you 
know — too  tawdry,  too  cheap." 

"Cheap!"  He  almost  shouted  it.  Then  he  leaned 
over  the  back  of  the  leather  chair  and  pounded  his 
fat  head  against  the  cushions,  writhing  his  big  bulk 
from  side  to  side. 

"Quite  impossible,"  I  said  firmly.  "Not  en  regie 
at  all,  you  know!"  And  I  fixed  my  glass  and  stared 
gloomily  at  the  things.  The  five  shiny  buttons  just 
lay  there  against  the  delicate  silk  like  so  many  fiery 
crimson  cherries.  And  they  reminded  me  of  some 
thing — something — what  the  deuce  was  it?  Some 
thing  devilish  familiar,  whatever  it  was.  And  then 
of  a  sudden  I  had  it! 

"By  Jove,  you  know!"    And  I  just  fell  back  ir> 


HER    BROTHER   JACK  8r 

consternation.  "This  is  awful!  I'd  look  like  a — er 
• — dashed  human  cocktail.  Oh,  I  say!" 

Then  Billings,  who  was  already  gasping  like  a 
jolly  what's-its-name,  dropped  upon  the  arm  of  the 
chair  and  held  his  side. 

"Dicky,  you — you'll  be  the  death  of  me  yet,"  he 
panted. 

I  never  try  to  follow  Billings.  Nobody  ever  does. 
So  I  paid  no  attention  to  him.  Shaking  his  head,  he 
lifted  the  garment  again  and  held  it  out  of  the  direct 
rays  of  the  shaded  lamp.  The  five  buttons  leaped 
out  of  the  shadow  like  port  lights  down  the  bay  on 
a  moonless  night. 

He  leered  at  me,  chuckling.  "Look  cheap  to  you, 
eh?  What  you  might  call  outre,  so  to  speak?" 

"By  Jove,  of  course,"  I  answered  ruefully.  "I 
can't  sleep  in  the  things  now,  you  know.  What 
would  people  say?" 

Billings  stared  at  me  disagreeably  a  moment  and 
said  something  under  his  breath.  Then  he  caught 
up  the  buttons  and  the  silk,  and  crushing  them  in  his 
hands,  buried  his  face  in  the  mass. 

"Oh  you  beauties,  you  darlings!"  I  heard  him 
murmur. 

Then  he  looked  at  the  buttons  again,  and  dash  it, 
he  kissed  one.  Maudlin — jolly  maudlin,  I  say,  if 
you  ask  me ! 

"I  say,  Dicky,"  he  said  carelessly.  "You  may  not 
care  for  them,  but  I've  taken  rather  a  shine  to  these 
buttons.  Mind  letting  me  have  one,  eh?" 


82  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

He  flashed  a  quick  glance  at  me  and  then  away. 

"Mind?  Why,  certainly  not;  take  'em  all,  old 
chap,  and  welcome."  Yet  I  responded  gloomily 
enough,  scarcely  polite,  you  know.  And  I  felt  too 
jolly  prostrated  to  be  curious  as  to  what  he  could 
possibly  want  with  the  things.  Waistcoat  buttons, 
likely — Billings  was  given  to  loud  dress  and  other 
bounder  stunts.  But  he  just  sat  there  looking  down 
after  I  spoke,  and  presently  stole  a  queer  glance  at 
me. 

"Dicky,"  he  said,  and  paused.  Then  he  fished  out 
that  perfectly  impossible  pipe  of  his  and  began  to 
pack  it,  slowly  shaking  his  head.  "Dicky,  anybody 
that  would  take  advantage  of  you  would  lift  a  baby's 
milk  gurgler." 

Of  course,  I  saw  no  more  sense  in  that  than  you 
do,  you  know,  but  I  understood  that  in  his  crude, 
vulgar  way  he  meant  some  sort  of  a  compliment. 

"Dash  it,  of  course,"  I  said  offhand,  straighten 
ing  up  and  recrossing  my  legs.  I  always  say  that 
and  do  that  way  when  fellows  say  stupid  things. 
Such  a  jolly  good  way  to  keep  from  hurting  their 
feelings,  you  know,  and  saves  talking  and  thinking. 
Got  on  to  it  myself. 

Billings'  eye  ranged  at  me  as  he  lighted  his  pipe. 
The  smoke  seemed  to  make  him  cough,  and  it  was 
this,  I  suppose,  that  set  him  chuckling. 

He  suddenly  held  up  the  row  of  red  buttons  again. 

"Look  here,  you  blessed  dodo,"  he  exclaimed 
brusquely.  "Have  you  really  no  idea  what  these  are, 


HER    BROTHER   JACK  83 

these  glass  buttons  you  are  yapping  about?  Of 
course  you  haven't,  you  jolly  chowder  head,  but  I'm 
going  to  tell  you." 

He  threw  the  coat  into  my  lap. 

"They  are  rubies,  old  man,  that's  all,"  he  said 
quietly.  "Oriental  rubies,  at  that — flawless  and  per 
fect — the  rarest  and  most  precious  things  in  the 
world." 


CHAPTER  IX 

AN   AMAZING    REVELATION 

I  STARED  blankly  at  Billings.  "Rubies!"  I 
gasped. 

He  nodded.  "Genuine  pigeon  bloods,  my  son,  no 
less." 

"Oh,  come  now,  Billings,"  I  protested.  I  felt  a 
little  miffed,  just  a  little  you  know.  So  jolly  raw  to 
try  it  on  that  way. 

"By  jove,  old  chap,  you  must  think  me  a  com 
mon  ass,"  I  suggested  disgustedly. 

Billings  grinned  at  the  very  idea. 

"You  a  common  ass,  Dicky?"  he  ejaculated.  "No 
body  who  knows  you  would  ever  think  that,  old 
man." 

"But,  I  say—" 

"See  here,  Dicky  boy,  I'm  in  dead  earnest,"  he  in 
terrupted  eagerly.  "Don't  you  remember  my  one 
fad — gems?  Got  enough  tied  up  in  them  to  build 
two  apartment  houses  as  big  as  this.  Best  amateur 
collection  in  New  York,  if  I  do  say  it.  But  I  haven't 
anything  like  one  of  these  rubies,  and  neither  has 
any  one  else — no  one  else  in  this  country,  anyhow. 
There's  nothing  like  them  in  all  New  York,  from 
Tiffany's  down  to  Maiden  Lane,  and  never  has  been. 

84 


AN    AMAZING    REVELATION          85 

I  never  saw  anything  like — near  like  any  of  them — 
except  the  one  in  the  Russian  crown  of  Anna  Ivan- 
ovana.  That's  bigger,  but  it  hasn't  the  same  fire." 

I  just  laughed  at  him.  "Why,  Billings,  these  paja 
mas  were  sent  me  by  a  friend  in  China,  and  I  assure 
you—" 

"Assure?  What  can  you  assure — what  do  you 
know  about  it?"  said  Billings  rudely.  "What  did 
your  friend  know,  or  the  one  he  had  these  things 
^rom — or  the  one  before  him — or  the  one  still  be 
fore  that?  Pshaw!"  And  he  snapped  his  fingers. 

With  his  hand  he  swept  up  the  little  caps  and  the 
long,  wirelike  threads  that  held  them  and  sniffed 
the  handful  curiously. 

"H'm!  Funky  sort  of  aromatic  smell — balsam, 
cedar  oil  or  something  like  that,"  he  muttered  half 
iloud.  "That  accounts  for  the  preservation.  But 
still—" 

He  crossed  his  legs  and  puffed  thoughtfully. 

"Tell  you  how  I  figure  this  out,  Dicky,"  he  said 
.finally.  "These  nighties  your  friend  has  sent  you 
are  awfully  rare  and  old;  and  for  delicate,  dainty 
elegance  and  that  sort  of  thing  they've  got  every 
thing  else  in  the  silk  way  shoved  off  the  clothes-line. 
But  as  to  these  jewels,  you  can  just  bet  all  you've 
got  that  whoever  passed  them  on  was  not  wise  to 
them  being  under  these  covers." 

Here  he  got  to  looking  at  one  of  the  buttons  and 
murmuring  his  admiration — regular  trance,  you 
know. 


86  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"By  Jove !"  I  remarked,  just  to  stir  him  up  a  bit. 
And  he  unloaded  a  great  funnel  of  smoke  and  con 
tinued  : 

"My  theory  is  that  during  some  danger,  some 
mandarins'  war,  likely,  somebody  got  cold  feet  about 
these  jewels  and  roped  them  in  with  these  bits  of 
silk — see  how  different  they  are  from  the  rest  of 
the  stuff!  Then,  when  the  roughhouse  came,  these 
pajamas  were  swept  along  in  the  sacking — sort  of 
spoils  of  pillage,  you  know.  It  was  a  clever  method 
of  concealment — clever  because  simple — a  hiding 
place  unlikely  to  be  thought  of  because  right  under 
the  eye.  You  recall  Poe's  story  of  The  Purloined 
Letter?" 

I  tried  to  remember.  "Can't  say  I  do,  dear  boy," 
I  had  to  admit.  "Don't  seem  to  place  that  one.  Only 
one  I  remember  hearing  him  tell  is  that  one  he 
brought  back  from  Paris.  Let  me  see — The  Story 
of  the  Lonely  Lobster,  I  think  he  called  it."  I  chor 
tled  delightedly  as  it  came  back  to  me.  "By  Jove, 
that  was  devilish  neat !  Don't  know  when  I've  ever 
heard—" 

An  offensive  remark  by  Billings  interrupted  me. 

"Here,  Dicky,  Dicky,  what  do  you  think  you're 
talking  about  ?"  he  added  rudely.  Evidently  his  mind 
had  wandered  from  the  subject.  So  I  replied  with 
dignity — dignity,  with  just  a  touch  of  sarcasm  : 

"Pogue — 'Mickey'  Pogue  of  our  club.  Perhaps 
you  don't  know  Mickey  Pogue?"  And,  by  Jove,  that 
fetched  him !  He  stared  at  me  a  moment,  and  then, 


AN    AMAZING    REVELATION          87 

getting  up,  he  reached  over  and  solemnly  shook  me 
by  the  hand. 

"Dicky,"  he  said,  wagging  his  head,  "I  apologize. 
You  take  the  brioche!"  And  he  turned  his  back  a 
second. 

I  asked  Billings  how  much  he  thought  one  of  the 
rubies  was  worth.  I  had  in  mind  how  devilish  hun 
grily  he  had  looked  at  them.  But  he  sighed,  then 
frowned  and  answered  impatiently: 

"That's  it!  That's  the  trouble  about  all  the  rare 
and  beautiful  things  of  this  life!  Always  some  de 
basing,  prohibitive  sordid  money  value,  dammit !" 

He  squinted  at  the  stones  again  and  let  the  weight 
of  one  rest  upon  his  finger.  He  shook  his  head, 
sighing. 

"Well,  they're  over  twenty  carats  each,  and  there 
fore,  of  course,  many  times  the  value  of  first  water 
diamonds.  After  you  get  above  five  carats  with 
real  Oriental  rubies,  diamonds  are  not  in  it." 

With  an  abrupt  gesture  he  pushed  the  things  away 
and  rose.  His  pipe  had  gone  out,  but  I  noticed  that 
he  did  not  relight  it.  I  held  the  gems  full  in  the  rays 
of  the  lamp,  and  Billings  paused,  holding  a  hungry 
gaze  over  his  shoulder. 

"I  say,  Billings,  how  much  did  you  say  one  was 
worth?"  I  asked  carelessly.  For  a  moment  he  did 
not  reply,  but  muttered  to  himself. 

"I  didn't  say,"  he  finally  replied,  and  rather 
crossly.  Then  he  whirled  on  me  impulsively.  "See 
here,  Lightnut,"  he  exclaimed,  "if  you'll  let  me  have 


88  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

one  of  those  for  my  collection,  I'll  give  you  twenty- 
five  thousand  for  it — there !" 

He  gulped  and  continued : 

"I'll  have  to  make  some  sacrifices,  but  I  don't 
mind  that.  I — " 

But  I  shook  my  head.  Really,  I  could  hardly  keep 
from  laughing  in  his  face. 

"Sorry !  Can't  see  it,  old  chap,"  I  said.  "Wouldn't 
sell  one  of  them  at  any  price." 

Billings  gulped  again.  "I  suppose  not ;  don't  blame 
you.  Way  you're  fixed,  you  don't  have  to."  He 
walked  slowly  to  the  window  and  back.  "Take  my 
advice,  Dicky,  and  get  those  fire  coals  into  your  safe 
deposit  vault  first  thing  in  the  morning.  Hello, 
you're  cutting  them  off!  That's  wise." 

For  with  the  knife  he  had  left  on  the  table  I  was 
cutting  away  the  tough  threads  that  held  the  rubies. 
I  cut  off  the  second  and  fourth,  leaving  the  first 
ruby  at  the  collar  and  the  other  two  alternates. 

"Go  on,"  said  Billings,  as  I  laid  down  the  knife. 
"You've  only  removed  two." 

"Don't  believe  I'll  cut  off  any  more,"  I  said. 
"Want  you  to  help  me  tie  up  the  others  just  as  they 
were." 

"What !" 

I  insisted.  And  though  Billings  protested  and 
argued  and  even  called  me  names,  we  did  as  I  said. 

For,  by  Jove,  you  know  it  was  perfectly  clear  that 
if  they  had  been  safe  so  long  under  the  little  covers, 
the  jewels  couldn't  find  any  better  place.  Singular 


AN    AMAZING    REVELATION          89 

thing  Billings  couldn't  see  it.  Besides,  the  pajamas 
had  to  have  fastenings,  you  know. 

I  held  one  of  the  two  rubies  under  the  light,  and, 
by  Jove,  I  almost  dropped  it — did  drop  my  glass. 
Seeing  a  red-hot  poker-point  in  your  fingers  would 
give  you  the  same  turn. 

"Rippers,  Billings !   Simply  rippers !"  I  exclaimed. 

I  held  the  other  ruby  beside  its  fellow.  Then  I 
waited,  listening,  and  I  heard  Billings'  hand  strike 
down  on  the  back  of  a  chair. 

"I  guess  I'll  be  going,  old  chap,"  he  said  gruffly. 
"Think  I'd  better,  after  all."  He  cleared  his  throat. 
"Sure  you  can't  sell  me  one,  Dicky?"  Dashed  if  his 
^oice  didn't  tremble. 

"Quite  sure,  dear  boy,"  I  murmured,  without 
turning  around.  "->Iot  mine,  you  know — these  two." 

Billings  exploded  then.  It  seemed  an  opportunity 
o  relieve  himself.  "Not  yours!  Why,  you  dod- 
gasted  idiot,  you  nincompoop,  you  cuckoo,  you 
chicken  head!  What  notion  have  you  got  in  that 
fool's  noddle  now?  If  those  rubies  are  not  yours, 
whose  do  you  think  they  are?" 

I  whirled  about  quickly.  "Yours,"  I  said,  and  laid 
them  in  his  hand. 

"My  compliments,  old  chap,"  I  added,  smiling. 
By  Jove!  One  time,  at  least,  I  put  it  all  over  old 
Billings! 

"No!"  he  gasped,  crouching  over  and  gripping 
my  shoulder. 

I  grinned  cheerfully. 


90  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

He  fell  into  a  chair  and  just  sat  there  mouthing 
at  me  and  then  at  the  jewels  in  his  hand.  Old  boy 
looked  devilish  silly.  Really  acted  like  he  had  some 
sort  of  stroke — that  sort  of  thing. 

I  laughed  at  him. 

"Don't  you  see?"  I  said,  trying  to  explain. 
"Wouldn't  have  known  a  dashed  thing  about  the 
buttons  being  rubies  but  for  you.  So  lucky  they 
came  to  me  so  I  can  get  a  chance  to  help  out  your 
collection.  Awfully  glad,  old  chap." 

He  clenched  the  jewels,  and  looked  down. 

"Dicky — "  He  coughed  a  little  huskily  as  he 
paused.  "Dicky."  His  voice  was  so  low  I  could 
hardly  hear  him.  "Dicky,  you're  off  your  trolley, 
and  I'm  a  damned — " 

He  raised  his  arm  and  dropped  it. 

"Well,  never  mind  what,"  he  finished  with  a  lift 
of  the  shoulders.  "But  I  want  to  say  something. 
It's  about  what  I  offered  you  for  those  stones.  The 
price — the  amount  I  named — wasn't  even  a  decent 
gamble ;  but  it  was  all  I  could  go,  and  oh,  I  wanted 
one  so  badly,  Dicky !  And  now  you've  made  me  feel 
like  a  dog.  And  I  can't  take  your  gift,  old  chap, 
any  more  than  I  could  afford  to  offer  you  the  real 
value  of  one  of  these  beautiful  stones.  Here."  And 
he  passed  them  back  to  me. 

"I  know  each  of  them  to  be  worth  anywhere  from 
forty  to  fifty  thousand  dollars,"  he  said  quietly. 
"They're  the  kind  the  crowned  heads  scoop  for  jew 
els  of  state." 


AN    AMAZING    REVELATION          91 

I  nodded,  and,  getting  up  carelessly,  I  strolled  to 
a  window. 

"Devilish  lovely  night,"  I  said,  poking  my  head 
out.  And  it  was.  Stars  overhead  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing,  and  lots  of  them  below,  too — I  could  hear 
them  singing  over  on  Broadway. 

"All  right,  old  chap;  then  here  they  go  into  the 
street,"  I  said.  "If  my  friend  can't  have  'em,  then  no 
jolly  crowned  heads  shall.  That's  flat!" 

Billings  started  forward  with  a  regular  scream. 

I  waved  him  back.  "Don't  come  any  nearer,  old 
chap,"  I  said,  holding  my  arm  out  of  the  window, 
"or,  dash  me,  I'll  drop  them  instantly.  Six  stories, 
you  know — stone  flagging  below." 

"But,  Dicky—" 

"If  you  don't  say  you'll  take  'em,  time  I  count 
three,  I'll  give  'em  a  toss,  by  Jove!  One!" 

"Here,  Dicky!  Don't  be  a—" 

"Two !"  I  counted.  No  bluff,  you  know ;  I  meant 
jolly  well  to  do  it. 

"Just  one  word — one  second,  Dicky!"  he  yelled. 
"Let  me  off  with  one,  then.  Dicky !  Dicky,  old  chap ! 
Be  a  good  sportsman!" 

I  hesitated.  Dash  it,  one  hates  to  take  an  advan 
tage. 

Billings  stretched  out  his  arm  appealingly.  "Do, 
old  chap!"  he  pleaded.  "Give  me  just  one — one 
only!" 

His  hand  shook  like  a  quivering  what's-its-name 
leaf. 


92  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

I  yielded  reluctantly:  "Oh,  well  then,  call  it  off 
with  one,"  I  said.  And  with  a  sigh  I  tossed  him  one 
of  the  rubies  and  dropped  the  other  in  the  pocket  of 
my  smoking-jacket.  Billings  wiped  his  forehead,  and 
then  he  thanked  me  and  wiped  his  eyes. 

"So  good  of  you  to  give  in,  old  chap,"  he  snuffled. 
"Never  will  forget  you  for  it!" 

"Oh,  I  say,  chuck  it,  you  know !"  I  protested. 

"Whole  family  will  thank  you,"  he  went  on  in 
his  handkerchief.  "Princely  magnanimity  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing — you'll  just  have  to  come  up  for 
the  week  end  with  me  this — " 

"I  will!"  I  reached  forward  eagerly  and  insisted 
on  shaking  hands.  By  Jove,  what  luck ! 

And  Billings  looked  regularly  overcome.  All  he 
could  do  was  just  shake  his  head  and  pump  my  arm. 
Why,  dash  it,  this  seemed  to  affect  him  more  even 
than  giving  in  about  the  ruby.  It  was  the  first  time 
I  had  ever  accepted  his  invitation,  you  know. 

"Tell  you  what,  old  chap,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  he 
could  speak.  "I'm  going  to  tell  you  what  to  do  with 
that  other  stone.  You  save  that  for  her." 

"Her!"  By  Jove,  I  was  so  startled  I  lost  the  grip 
on  my  monocle.  Billings  nodded  emphatically. 

"Yes,  sir — for  her;  she'll  be  along  one  of  these 
days." 

"By  Jove,  you  know!"  I  was  almost  dizzy  with 
a  sudden  idea.  I  fished  out  the  jewel  and  held  it  be 
fore  my  glass,  squinting  doubtfully  at  it.  I  won 
dered  if  it  was  good  enough  for  "her." 


AN    AMAZING    REVELATION          93 

"I  say,  Billings,"  I  murmured  thoughtfully. 
"Blondes  or  brunettes,  you  know — which  wear 
rubies?" 

"Both!"  He  said  it  with  a  kind  of  jaw  snap. 
"They  wear  anything  in  the  jewel  line  they  can 
freeze  on  to." 

"But  which—" 

"The  worst?  Blondes,  my  boy — blondes,  every 
time;  especially  those  going  around  in  black."  Bill 
ings  spoke  gloomily.  "Let  me  tell  you,  my  boy — and 
I  know — don't  you  ever  have  anything  to  do  with  a 
blonde  if  she's  in  black,  especially  black  silk — hear?" 

By  Jove,  his  uplifted  finger  and  fierce  way  of  say 
ing  it  gave  me  a  regular  turn,  you  know.  But  then 
there  was  the  ruby,  and  I  was  thinking  that — 

"Perhaps  the  four  of  them  in  a  bracelet,"  I  mut 
tered,  "with  something  else  to  help  out.  They  might 
do." 

"They  might,"  said  Billings  in  a  tone  of  coarse 
sarcasm.  "They  might  do  for  a  queen !" 

I  flashed  a  quick  look  at  him.  "Just  what  7  was 
thinking,"  I  answered  gently. 

"Meantime,"  said  Billings,  yawning,  "let's  go  to 
bed." 

And  just  as  I  rang  for  Jenkins  I  suddenly  was 
seized  with  a  perfectly  ripping  idea  that  checked  a 
long  yawn  right  in  the  middle  and  almost  broke  my 
jaw.  For  I  saw  how  I  could  do  something  hand- 
jome  that  would  even  up  with  Billings  in  a  way  for 
the  ruby  he  wouldn't  take. 


94  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Tell  you  what,  old  chap,"  I  said,  slapping  him 
on  the  shoulder,  "you  are  going  to  have  them  to 
night!" 

"Have — have  what?"  burst  from  him.  "Rubies? 
I  tell  you  I  won't  take  another — " 

"Rubies!"  I  ejaculated  contemptuously.  "Rubies 
nothing !  Something  better — something  worth  while, 
dash  it!" 

I  saw  he  would  never  guess  it. 

"Why,  you  shall  sleep  in  the  pajamas  from 
China,"  I  exclaimed.  And  gathering  them,  I  placed 
them  in  his  hands. 

"By  George,  Dicky!"  Billings'  face  showed  feel 
ing.  "How  infernally  clever  of  you,  old  chap!  How 
thundering  timely,  too!" 

He  held  them  up  singly,  studying  their  outlines 
critically. 

"And  see  here,  Dicky — why,  great  Thomas  cats!" 
His  eyes  turned  on  me  wonderingly.  "Never  noticed 
it  before — did  you?  But  I  do  believe  they  are  just 
my  size !" 

His  size !  By  Jove,  I  had  forgotten  all  about  the 
item  of  size!  I  just  collapsed  into  a  chair  as  he  said 
good  night,  and  sat  there  blinking  in  a  regular 
stupefaction  of  horror  as  his  door  closed  behind  him. 

For  he  was  devilish  sensitive  about  his  bulk,  and 
I  dared  not  say  a  word. 


CHAPTER  X 

A    NOCTURNAL   INTRUSION 

,  but  I  say,  it's  impossible,  you  know!"  And 
I  stared  at  Jenkins  incredulously. 

He  grinned  foolishly.  "I  know,  sir;  but  he's  in 
'em,  just  the  same,  and  I  must  say  they  do  fit  lovely 
— just  easy-like." 

"By  Jove!"  I  gasped  helplessly.  "Then  the  jolly 
things  must  be  made  of  rubber,  that's  all!  Why, 
look  here,  he  weighs  over  three  hundred  pounds,  you 
know!" 

Jenkins'  head  wagged  sagaciously.  "I  think  that's 
how  it  is,  sir;  it's  wonderful  what  they  do  with  rub 
ber  now ;  my  brother  wears  a  rubber  cloth  bandage 
that  ain't  no  bigger  'round  than  my  arm  when  it's 
off  of  him,  and  he — " 

"Dare  say,"  I  said  sleepily  as  I  fell  back  upon 
my  pillow.  "Good  night,  Jenkins;  hope  you'll  get 
enough  sleep  to  make  up  for  the  other  night." 

Jenkins  sighed  as  he  punched  out  the  light. 
"Thank  you,  sir — and  good  night,"  he  murmured. 

How  long  I  slept  I  can  not  tell,  as  they  say  in 
stories,  you  know;  but  I  was  brought  jolly  wide 
awake  by  a  light  that  shone  through  the  bedroom's 

95 


96  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

open  door.  For  if  there's  one  thing-  will  wake  me 
quicker  than  everything  else  it's  a  light  in  the  room 
at  night.  Fact  is,  I  always  want  it  as  black  as  the 
what's-its-name  cave,  or  else  I  can't  sleep.  And  this 
light  came  from  the  small  electric  stand  on  the  writ 
ing-desk.  I  could  tell  that  by  the  way  it  shone. 

And  just  then  the  little  silver  gong  in  there  chimed 
three.  Jolly  rum  hour  for  anybody  to  be  up  unless 
they  were  having  some  fun  or  were  sick.  So  I  raised 
my  head  and  called  softly : 

"Jenkins — er— Billings !" 

No  answer.  Reluctantly  I  swung  out  and  stepped 
within  the  next  room.  Not  a  soul  there,  by  Jove! 
Then  I  moved  over  to  Billings'  door,  which  was  wide 
open  for  coolness,  like  my  own.  I  could  not  see  the 
shadowed  alcove  in  which  the  bed  was  placed,  and 
so  I  stood  there  hesitating,  hating  awfully  to  risk 
the  possibility  of  disturbing  him,  don't  you  know. 
And  just  then  my  eyes,  ranging  sleepily  across  the 
room  toward  the  private  hall,  were  startled  by  the 
apparition  of  an  open  doorway. 

Startled,  all  right!  And  yet,  by  Jove,  I  was  in 
such  a  jolly  fog,  I  just  stood  there,  nodding  and 
batting  at  it  for  a  full  minute  before  I  could  take 
it  in. 

"What  I  call  devilish  queer,"  I  decided.  I  walked 
over  and  stuck  my  head  out  into  the  dark  hall. 

"Billings!   Jenkins!"  I  whispered. 

By  Jove,  not  a  word !  Everything  as  silent  as  the 
tomb! 


A    NOCTURNAL    INTRUSION          97 

I  didn't  like  it  a  bit— so  mysterious,  you  know. 
Besides,  dash  it,  the  thing  was  getting  me  all  waked 
up!  I  just  knew  if  once  I  got  excited  and  thoroughly 
awake,  it  would  take  me  nearly  ten  minutes  to  get 
to  sleep  again.  And,  by  Jove,  just  then  the  excite 
ment  came,  for  I  got  hold  of  the  fact  after  I  had 
stared  at  it  a  while,  that  the  door  of  my  apartment 
opening  into  the  outer  corridor  was  standing  ajar. 
Why,  dash  it,  it  was  not  only  standing,  it  was  mov 
ing.  Then  suddenly  the  broad  streak  of  light  from 
the  corridor  widened  under  the  impulse  of  a  fresh 
ening  breeze,  and  the  door  swung  open  with  a  bang. 

And  then  I  heard  my  name  spoken. 

By  Jove,  I  had  been  standing  there  with  my  mouth 
open,  bobbing  my  head  like  a  silly  dodo;  but,  give 
you  my  word,  I  was  suddenly  wide  awake  as  a  jolly 
owl  wagon ! 

Away  down  the  corridor,  by  the  mail  chute,  a 
man  was  standing,  reading  a  framed  placard. 
Nothing  particularly  remarkable  in  this,  but  as  the 
door  banged  he  turned  his  head  sharply  and  ejacu 
lated  : 

"Dammit!  Now,  that  will  wake  Lightnut!" 

I  was  surprised,  because  I  couldn't  recall  ever 
having  seen  him  before;  yet,  standing  as  he  did 
under  the  light,  I  had  opportunity  for  a  devilish 
good  view. 

He  was  a  heavy  set  old  party,  rather  baldish,  with 
snowy  mutton  chops  and  a  beefy  complexion  that 
was  joliy  well  tanned  below  the  hatband  line,  you 


98  THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

know.  The  kind  of  old  boy  you  size  up  as  one  of  the 
prime  feeder  sort  and  fond  of  looking  on  the  wine 
when  it  is  Oporto  red.  Had  something  of  the  cut  of 
the  retired  India  colonels  one  sees  about  the  Service 
clubs  in  London — straight  as  a  lamp  post  still,  but 
out  of  training  and  in  devilish  need  of  tapping — • 
that  sort  of  duck,  you  know ! 

What  a  respectable-looking  old  party  might  be  up 
to,  wandering  around  a  bachelor  apartment  building 
at  three  in  the  morning,  was  none  of  my  business. 
What's  more,  you  know,  I  didn't  care  a  jolly  hang. 
But  the  thing  that  dashed  me  was  that  just  as  I 
moved  toward  the  door  to  close  it,  he  uttered  my 
name  again  and  came  straight  toward  me  as  though 
to  speak. 

So  I  had  to  wait,  by  Jove,  for  I  couldn't  close  the 
door  in  his  face.  Awfully  rotten  thing  to  do — that, 
you  know. 

"Lost  his  floor  and  wants  to  inquire,"  I  decided. 

And  then  as  he  toddled  across  the  last  yard  and 
stopped  before  me,  I  saw  that  the  old  chap  was  in 
his  night  things — some  darkish  sort  of  pajamas. 

His  bushy  white  eyebrows  puckered  in  a  frown. 
.  "Hello !  Just  afraid  my  moving  around  was  going 
to  get  you  up — infernal  shame!"  he  said  in  a  thun 
der  growl. 

I  smiled  feebly  but  politely.  "Devilish  consider 
ate  old  cock,"  was  my  thought.  "Means  well.'1 

Aloud  I  said :  "Not  at  all,  you  know.  Up  any 
how." 


A    NOCTURNAL    INTRUSION          99 

Then  I  moved  the  door  just  a  little — just  a  wee 
suggestive  inch  or  two,  you  know,  hoping  he 
would  go. 

But,  by  Jove,  he  just  walked  right  in ! 

Then  he  leaned  against  the  wall  in  the  corridor 
and  chuckled. 

"By  George!"  he  exclaimed  with  a  leer  that 
showed  his  almost  toothless  old  gums.  "Bet  you 
never  would  guess  what  I  got  up  for!" 

No,  dash  it,  I  didn't  even  care  to  try.  I  just 
coughed  a  little. 

"He,  he !"  he  giggled.  "Woke  up  and  remembered 
had  promised  Flossie  Fandango  of  The  Parisian 
Broilers  a  box  of  steamer  flowers.  Gad,  she  sails  at 
ten ;  so  I  piled  out  and  shot  off  a  note  to  my  florist, 
special  delivery.  Been  trying  to  find  out  from  that 
infernal  card  back  there  when's  the  first  collection 
from  the  box  below.  You  don't  know,  do  you  ?" 

By  Jove,  one  of  those  foot-in-the-grave  old  stage- 
door  Johnnies !  The  surprise  took  my  breath. 

"Why,  the  cheesy  old  sport!"  I  thought  disgust 
edly.  And  I  answered  rather  coldly:  "Sorry,  you 
know;  no  idea."  And  I  opened  the  door  wide. 

But  the  old  rascal  never  moved ;  just  stood  there, 
chuckling  horribly. 

"Well,  she'll  be  back  in  the  fall,"  he  cackled. 
"And  see  here,  old  chap,  will  introduce  you  if  you 
like.  You  need  waking  up!" 

And  here  I  gave  a  jump  and  yelled  "Ouch!" 

For  the  old  fool  had  dug  his  thumb  into  my  ribs. 


ioo         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

Only  then  did  it  dawn  on  me  that  he  was  drunk. 
Of  course  that  was  it,  and  unless  I  got  rid  of  him 
the  old  bore  would  stand  and  twaddle  the  rest  of  the 
night.  I  reached  for  his  hand  and  shook  it. 

"We'll  have  a  talk  about  it  some  time,"  I  said 
pleasantly.  "Just  now,  don't  you  think  we'd  better 
each  get  to  bed?  So  devilish  late,  you  know." 

He  slapped  me  on  the  shoulder  with  a  blow  that 
almost  brought  me  to  the  floor.  Felt  like  he  struck 
me  with  a  ham,  don't  you  know ! 

"Right,  old  chap,"  he  said;  "very  delicately  put; 
won't  keep  you  up  another  minute.  Believe  I'd  like 
a  drink  first,  though,  if  you  don't  mind." 

Devilish  bored  as  I  was,  I  decided  the  easiest  es 
cape  was  to  humor  him. 

"All  right,"  I  said,  leaving  the  door  open  and 
stepping  into  the  room;  "I'll  get  you  a  glass  of 
water." 

"Water!"  he  exclaimed,  following  me  right  in. 
"Say,  don't  get  funny;  it's  not  becoming  to  you." 
He  leered  at  me  hideously. 

He  went  right  to  the  corner  where  stood  my  cel- 
larette.  By  Jove,  give  you  my  word  I  was  so  devilish 
stupefied  I  couldn't  bring  out  a  word.  I  wasn't  sure 
what  was  coming,  and  as  I  didn't  want  Billings'  rest 
disturbed,  I  quietly  closed  the  door  of  his  room. 

The  old  cock  in  the  black  pajamas  had  uncorked 
a  bottle  and  was  smelling  its  contents.  He  grimaced 
over  his  shoulder. 

"That's  infernally  rotten  Scotch,  I  say!"  he  ex- 


A    NOCTURNAL    INTRUSION        101 

claimed   with   a   sort   of  snort.     "Regular   sell,   by 
George !" 

I  was  glad  Billings  didn't  hear  him,  for  it  had 
been  a  present  from  him  only  the  week  before. 

"Suppose  I'll  have  to  go  the  rye,"  he  grumbled; 
and,  grinning  at  me  familiarly,  he  poured  himself  a 
drink.  He  tossed  it  off,  neat.  I  reflected  that  per 
haps  he  would  go  quietly  now. 

"Well,"  I  said,  advancing,  "I  expect  you're  anx- 
'ious  to  get  to  your  quarters,  so  I'll  say  good  night." 
I  extended  my  hand.  "That  ought  to  fetch  him/' 
I  thought,  "if  he's  a  gentleman,  no  matter  how  jolly 
corked  he  may  be." 

In  my  grasp  his  hand  felt  like  a  small  boxing 
glove,  but  when  I  glanced  at  it  I  saw  that  it  was  not 
unusual. 

The  old  duck  pumped  my  arm  solemnly  and  cast 
his  eyes  to  the  ceiling. 

"Fa-are-we-e-11,  old  f-friend!"  he  murmured  in  a 
husky  tremolo,  deflecting  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
and  wagging  his  bald  pate.  "If  I  don't  see  you 
again  I'll  have  the  river  dragged !" 

And  then,  instead  of  going,  dash  me  if  the  old 
fool  didn't  flop  down  into  Billings'  favorite  chair 
and  reach  for  Billings'  cigarettes  that  he  had  left  on 
the  tabouret. 

He  waved  his  hand  at  me.  "Oh,  you  go  on  to  bed, 
Lightnut,"  he  said,  puffing  away  with  iron  nerve. 
"All  the  sleep's  out  of  me,  dammit!  I'll  just  sit  here 
and  read  and  smoke  as  long  as  I  like,  then  I'll  go 


102          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

in  there  and  turn  in."  A  jerk  of  his  doddering  head 
indicated  Billings'  room. 

By  Jove,  I  hardly  knew  what  to  do!  I  was  reg 
ularly  bowled  over,  don't  you  know.  I  was  up 
against  a  crisis — that's  what — a  crisis. 

"Oh,  I  say,  you  know—  "  I  started  remonstrating, 
and  just  then  I  gasped  with  relief  at  the  welcome 
sight  of  Jenkins,  peeking  round  the  door-frame  be 
hind  my  visitor's  back.  His  finger  was  on  his  lips 
and  he  beckoned  me  earnestly. 

At  the  same  moment  old  whiskers  shoved  his  chair 
up  to  the  table,  switched  on  the  reading-lamp  and 
reached  for  a  magazine. 

"I'm  on,  sir,"  whispered  Jenkins,  as  I  joined  him 
and  we  stepped  aside.  "Hadn't  I  better  ring  up  the 
janitor  on  my  house  'phone?" 

"By  Jove,  the  very  thing!"  I  agreed.  "For  he'll 
know  where  this  chap  belongs.  A  fiver,  tell  him,  if 
he  gets  a  move  on.  Hurry!" 

I  slipped  back  into  the  room  as  Jenkins  disap 
peared.  The  jolly  old  barnacle  had  discarded  his 
cigarette  and  was  critically  selecting  a  cigar  from 
my  humidor. 

"I  don't  see  why  the  devil  you  don't  go  to  bed/' 
he  said,  fixing  himself  comfortably  with  two  chairs 
and  lighting  up. 

"I — I'm  not  sleepy,"  I  stammered,  perching  on 
the  corner  of  a  chair. 

"I  believe  you're  lying,"  he  growled,  scowling  at 


A    NOCTURNAL   INTRUSION        103 

me ;  "but  if  you're  not  sleepy,  listen  to  this  joke  here 
—it's  a  chestnut,  but  it's  infernally  good." 

I  never  did  know  what  the  joke  was,  for  I  was 
listening  for  other  sounds  as  he  read.  Suddenly  I 
heard  a  whistle  far  down  in  the  street ;  and  I  thought 
it  was  followed  by  a  patter  of  running  feet. 

Then  came  the  quivering  rhythm  of  the  elevator 
rapidly  ascending,  and  while  the  anecdote  was  still 
being  droned  out  between  chuckles,  I  slipped  out 
again  into  the  hall  and  rejoined  Jenkins. 

"Janitor  says  there's  no  such  tenant  in  this  build 
ing  as  I  described,"  Jenkins  imparted  hurriedly. 
"Might  be  a  guest,  of  course ;  but  he  doesn't  remem 
ber  ever  seeing  him.  So  he  whistled  for  a  cop,  to  be 
on  the  safe  side,  and  caught  two.  Here  they  are,  sir." 

Out  from  the  elevator  sprang  the  janitor,  half- 
dressed  and  looking  excited.  Close  on  his  heels  came 
two  big  policemen. 

I  stepped  into  the  outer  corridor  and  explained 
the  situation.  The  officers  nodded  reassuringly. 

"  'Nough  said,"  one  of  them  commented.  "We'll 
have  him  out,  sir." 

The  janitor,  who  had  been  cautiously  sighting 
through  the  door  within,  came  running  out. 

"He  shifted  around  while  I  was  looking,  and  I 
got  a  good  look  at  him,"  he  said  with  some  excite 
ment,  "and  I  never  saw  him  before.  I  wouldn't  for 
get  that  mug!" 

"Suppose  you  take  a   squint  at  him   yourself, 


104         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

O'Keefe,"  suggested  the  taller  of  the  coppers. 
"You've  been  on  this  beat  so  long." 

In  a  minute  or  two  O'Keefe  came  slipping  back 
hurriedly.  He  drew  his  companion  aside. 

"Tell  you  what,  Tim,"  I  heard  him  say,  "do  you 
know,  I'm  after  thinking  it  looks  like  old  Braxton, 
known  in  the  perfesh  as  'Foxy  Grandpa.'  He's  a 
swell  con  man,  but  has  just  finished  a  stretch  at  Cop 
per  John's  for  going  through  a  flat  in  the  Bronx. 
He's  done  murder  once." 

The  other  turned  to  me. 

"May  save  a  muss  in  your  rooms  if  you'll  just 
kinder  call  him  out,  sir,"  he  suggested.  "It  will  be 
simpler."  He  grinned  significantly  and  glanced  at 
his  night  stick. 

"By  Jove !"  I  ejaculated,  looking  at  Jenkins.  "By 
Jove,  you  know !" 

Jenkins  coughed.  "Just  say  you  want  to  speak  to 
him  a  minute,  sir,"  he  said.  "They'll  do  the  rest — 
h'm!" 

They  all  followed  me  into  the  hall,  and  I  stepped 
to  the  doorway.  And  then  I  almost  pitched  for 
ward,  I  was  so  devilish  startled. 

For,  as  a  crowning  example  of  his  daring  and 
reckless  conduct,  the  hoary  old  reprobate  was  emerg 
ing  from  Billings'  room,  his  fingers  overhauling  the 
contents  of  my  friend's  wallet,  even  as  he  waddled 
along,  and  so  absorbed  that  he  never  even  saw  me. 

"Ah!"  he  breathed  in  a  heavy  sigh  of  satisfaction  ; 
and  out  came  his  fingers,  and  in  them,  poised  aloft, 


A    NOCTURNAL    INTRUSION        105 

he  held  the  ruby  I  had  given  to  Billings.   His  bleary 
eyes  gloated  at  it. 

"Mine!"  he  whispered.    "Mine  now  to  keep  for 
ever!" 


CHAPTER  XI 

IRON    NERVE 

I  JUST  stood  in  the  doorway,  staring.  Couldn't 
say  a  word,  my  throat  was  that  paralyzed.  First 
time,  you  know,  I'd  ever  seen  a  real  burglar  or  jolly 
hold-up  man,  and  he  looked  so  different  from  what 
I  had  expected. 

But  I  knew  now,  of  course,  that  the  policeman 
was  right  and  that  the  respectable-looking  old  gen 
tleman  was  no  other  than  the  desperate  criminal  de 
scribed  as  "Foxy  Grandpa."  But  for  the  interven 
tion  of  outside  assistance  doubtless  Billings  and  I 
might  have  had  our  throats  cut  by  the  conscienceless 
old  geezer. 

He  was  so  absorbed  that  he  did  not  see  me,  nor 
the  two  helmets  piking  above  my  shoulder. 

"Up  to  his  old  tricks,"  O'Keefe  whispered. 
"We've  got  him  in  the  act,  Tim !" 

"Great !"  breathed  Tim.  "What  won't  the  captain 
say!" 

O'Keefe's  breath  tickled  my  ear  again  and  swept 
my  nose.  I've  never  seen  beer  or  sauerkraut  since 
but  what  I  think  of  it ! 

"Got  your  stick  ready?"  he  was  saying.  "Best 
not  take  any  chances;  Braxton's  a  quick  shooter, 

1 06 


IRON    NERVE  107 

they  say.  When  we  jump  him,  better  give  him  the 
club  right  off." 

Tim  whispered  an  impatient  demur.  "That's  all 
right;  but  I'm  for  coaxing  him  out  here  first.  I 
don't  want  to  tap  him  on  the  gentleman's  rugs;  if  I 
do,  I  can  tell  you,  it'll  ruin  'em,  that's  all." 

He  swept  his  hand  across  his  tongue  and  gripped 
'his  stick  tighter. 

Jenkins,  at  one  side,  bobbed  his  head  up  and  down 
and  smiled  his  admiration  of  this  sentiment.  He 
leaned  nearer  to  me. 

"Just  beckon  him  out,  sir,"  his  whisper  advised. 
"Just  tell  him  you  want  to  show  him  something  in 
the  hall — cat,  or  anything  will  do.  Just  so  you  get 
him  past  the  furniture  and  rugs,  sir." 

I  advanced  a  step  into  the  room.  I  expected  the 
old  knave  to  be  a  bit  dashed,  don't  you  know.  Not 
he ;  it  never  disquieted  him  a  bit.  Just  gave  me  a 
careless  leer  and  went  back  to  the  ruby.  Somehow 
I  began  to  feel  riled.  I'm  not  often  taken  that  way, 
but  this  old  scamp's  persistent  audacity  and  impu 
dence  went  beyond  anything  I  had  ever  heard  of. 

"What  in  thunder's  the  matter  with  you,  son?" 
he  murmured,  squinting  hideously  at  the  jewel. 
"You  prowl  around  like  you  had  a  pain."  Then  he 
went  right  on : 

"Say,  did  you  ever  see  anything  so  corking  fine  ?" 
He  looked  up,  holding  the  ruby  in  the  ligfyt.  "And 
to  think  how  little  I  dreamed  of  scooping  anything 
like  that  when  I  came  in  here  to-night!" 


io8         THE   HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

By  Jove,  this  was  a  little  too  much,  even  for  an 
easy-going  chap  like  myself!  The  jolly  worm  will 
turn,  you  know. 

Dash  me,  before  I  knew  what  I  was  doing  even,  I 
had  moved  to  his  side  and  jerked  the  ruby  from  his 
hand.  My  face  felt  like  a  hot-water  bottle  as  I  did  it. 

"You  haven't  got  it  yet,"  I  said,  "and  I'll  take 
devilish  good  care  you  don't  get  it." 

He  fell  back  as  though  from  a  blow. 

"Why— why,  old  chap!  Why,  Lightnut!"  he 
gasped.  "What's  the  matter — what  makes  you  look 
at  me  like  that?" 

"Your  liberties  have  gone  just  a  bit  too  far,  don't 
you  know,"  I  said,  looking  steadily  in  his  fishy  old 
eye.  "I've  had  enough  of  you,  by  Jove,  that's  all !" 

He  stared  at  me,  and  I  could  hear  him  breathing 
like  a  blacksmith's  bellows.  I  would  never  have 
thought  he  had  such  lungs. 

Slowly  his  hand  came  out,  and  dash  me  if  it  wasn't 
shaking  like  he  had  the  delirium  what's-its-name. 
But  for  his  tan,  his  face  would  have  been  as  white 
as  his  hypocritical  old  whiskers. 

"Is  this  some  infernal  joke?"  His  face  summoned 
a  sickly  smile  that  almost  instantly  faded.  His  hand 
fell  back  to  his  side.  "Why,  old  fellow,  you  don't 
think  that  way  about  me,  do  you  ?  As  for  the  ruby, 
I — I  don't  want  it  now — I  just  want  you  to  accept 
my  apology  for  anything  I've  done,  and — and  let  me 
get  away." 

There  was  a  short  laugh  from  the  doorway. 


IRON    NERVE  109 

"Likely  enough,"  said  Officer  O'Keefe,  his  big 
figure  swinging  forward  with  long  strides.  "Keep 
him  covered,  Tim!" 

He  planted  himself  between  us  with  a  grin. 

"You're  'it'  again,  Foxy!  Jig's  up.  Will  you  go 
quietly?" 

It  did  me  good  to  see  how  completely  the  old 
scoundrel  was  taken  back.  His  wide  distended  bleary 
eyes  shifted  from  O'Keefe  to  me  and  back  again. 
It  was  a  perfect  surprise. 

I  motioned  to  Jenkins  to  close  the  door  of  my 
friend's  bedroom.  So  far,  he  had  evidently  slept 
serenely  through  all  the  trouble,  and,  if  possible,  I 
wanted  to  avoid  arousing  him  now.  For  a  fat  man, 
Billings  had  the  deuce  of  a  temper  when  stirred  up 
over  anything  like  an  imposition  upon  him,  and  it 
would  only  add  to  the  confusion  for  him  to  appear 
on  the  scene  and  learn  about  his  wallet  and  his  treas 
ured  ruby  that  I  had  rescued. 

Foxy  Grandpa's  face  had  been  rapidly  undergoing 
a  change.  From  pallor  to  pink  it  went;  and  then 
from  pink  to  red.  Now  it  was  becoming  scarlet.  He 
threw  his  head  back  and  faced  me  angrily. 

"Lightnut,  will  you  tell  me  what  the  hell  this 
means  ?"  And  his  heavy  voice  thundered. 

"Here!  Here!  That'll  be  enough  o'  that,"  cried 
Officer  O'Keefe  sharply.  "None  of  your  grandstand 
play  here,  or  it'll  be  the  worse  for  you.  And  no 
tricks,  Braxton,  or — " 

He  clutched  his  stick  menacingly. 


no         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Braxton!"  snorted  the  old  fellow.  "Why,  you 
born  fool,  my  name's  not  Braxton !" 

"Not  now,"  grinned  O'Keefe.  "Say,  what  is  your 
name  now,  Foxy?" 

"My  name —  "  roared  Foxy  Grandpa,  and  paused 
abruptly.  He  looked  rather  blankly  from  one  officer 
to  the  other. 

"See  here;  do  I  understand  I'm  under  arrest?"  he 
inquired. 

"You  certainly  are  talking,  Foxy,"  chuckled 
O'Keefe. 

"Then  my  name's  Doe — John  Doe,"  and  I  thought 
the  fellow's  quick  glance  at  me  held  an  appeal.  Of 
what  sort,  I  had  no  idea. 

"And  what,  may  I  ask,  is  the  charge?"  he  asked 
again,  with  what  was  apparently  a  great  effort  at 
calmness. 

"Oh,  come  now,  Braxton,"  said  the  officer  in  a 
tone  of  disgust,  "stop  your  foolery ;  you're  just  using 
up  time.  Ain't  it  enough  that  you're  in  this  build 
ing  and  in  this  gentleman's  rooms?" 

"In  his  rooms!"  exploded  Foxy  Grandpa.  "Why, 
you  lunkhead,  this  gentleman  will  tell  you  I  am  his 
guest !"  He  turned  to  me  with  a  sort  of  angry  laugh. 

"Tell  him,  Lightnut,"  he  rasped.  "I've  had 
enough  of  this!" 

The  big  policeman's  features  expanded  in  a  grin, 
while  Tim  doubled  forward  an  instant,  his  blue  girth 
wabbling  with  internal  appreciation  of  the  Foxy 
one's  facetiousness ;  and  the  janitor  snickered. 


IRON    NERVE  in 

Jenkins  looked  shocked.  As  for  me,  dash  it,  I 
never  so  wished  for  my  monocle,  don't  you  know ! 

O'Keefe's  head  angled  a  little  to  give  me  the  bene 
fit  of  a  surreptitious  wink. 

"Oh,  certainly,"  he  said,  his  voice  affecting  a  fine 
sarcasm;  "if  the  gentleman  says  you're  his  friend — " 

"He's  no  friend  of  mine,"  I  proclaimed  indig 
nantly.  "Never  saw  him  before  in  my  life." 

Instead  of  being  confounded,  the  artful  old  villain 
fell  back  with  a  great  air  of  astonishment  and  dis 
may.  By  Jove,  he  managed  to  turn  fairly  purple. 

"Wha-a-t's  that?"  he  gasped  stranglingly  and 
clutching  at  the  collar  of  his  pajamas.  "Say  that 
again,  Dicky." 

I  looked  at  him  severely. 

"Oh,  I  say,  don't  call  me  'Dicky,'  either,"  I  remon 
strated  quietly.  "It's  a  name  I  only  like  to  hear  my 
intimate  friends  use." 

He  kind  of  caught  the  back  of  a  chair  and  glared 
wildly  at  me  from  under  his  bushy  wintry  eye 
brows.  The  beefy  rolls  of  his  lower  jaw  actually 
trembled. 

"Don't  you — haven't  you  always  classed  me  as 
that,  Die — er — Lightnut?"  he  sort  of  whispered. 

By  Jove,  the  effrontery  of  such  acting  fairly  dis 
gusted  me.  I  looked  him  over  from  head  to  foot 
with  measured  contempt.  "I  don't  know  you  at  all," 
I  said  coldly,  turning  away. 

"Ye  gods!"  he  wheezed,  clutching  at  his  grizzled 
hair. 


CHAPTER  XII 

I  SEND  A  MAN  TO  JAIL 

THE  two  policemen  shifted  impatiently. 
"That'll  about  do,  Foxy,"  growled  O'Keefe. 
"It's  entertaining,  but  enough  of  a  thing — " 

But  the  old  duffer  caught  his  sleeve. 

"Wait!"  he  panted.  "One  second — wait — just 
one  second!" 

He  looked  at  Jenkins  and  ducked  his  neck  for 
ward,  swallowing  hard. 

"Jenkins,"  he  said  with  a  sickly  smile.  "You 
—you  see  how  it  is  with  Lightnut — poor  fellow! 
None  of  us  ever  thought  he  would  go  off  that  bad 
though.  But,  as  it  is,  I  guess  you're  the  one  now 
who  will  have  to  set  me  right  with  these  people. 
You'll  have  to  stand  for  me." 

Jenkins  looked  alarmed.  He  addressed  the  offi 
cers  eagerly : 

"S'help  me,"  he  cried,  his  glance  impaling  the 
prisoner  with  scorn,  "I  never  see  this  party  before  in 
the  ten  years  I  been  in  New  York!" 

Did  that  settle  the  fellow?  By  Jove,  not  a  bit; 
his  jolly  nerve  seemed  inexhaustible ! 

He  blinked  a  little;  and  then  with  a   roar  he 
112 


jumped  for  Jenkins,  but  O'Keefe  shoved  him  back. 
Panting  and  struggling  between  the  two  officers,  and 
fairly  at  bay  at  last,  the  desperate  old  man  seemed  to 
determine  one  last  bluff,  don't  you  know,  and  with 
the  janitor. 

"Here,  you,"  he  bellowed,  as  the  man  dodged  be 
hind  Jenkins.  "You  have  seen  me  come  in  this 
building  often!  Tell  'em  so,  or  I'll  kill  you!" 

The  little  man  turned  pale,  but  came  up  pluckily. 

"If — if  I  had,"  he  stammered,  "you  never  would 
have  come  in  again,  if  I  knew  as  much  about  you  as 
I  do  now.  I  assure  you,  gents,  I  never  laid  eyes  on 
this  man  before." 

"Well,  I'll  be—" 

He  broke  off  and  seemed  to  fall  out  of  the  grasp 
of  the  men  backward  into  a  big  chair.  Couldn't  quit 
his  jolly  acting,  it  was  clear  to  me,  even  when  he  had 
played  his  last  card. 

"Is  everybody  crazy,  or  am  I?"  he  said,  brushing 
his  hand  across  his  forehead;  and  dashed  if  the  per 
spiration  didn't  stand  on  it  in  big  drops,  clear  up  into 
his  old  bald  pate. 

"See  here,"  he  broke  out  again,  addressing 
O'Keefe,  "send  for  somebody  else  in  this  building; 
send  for —  He  seemed  to  deliberate. 

The  policeman  laughed  derisively. 

"Likely  we'll  be  hauling  people  out  of  bed  at  this 
hour,  isn't  it,"  he  sneered,  "just  to  let  you  keep  up 
this  fool's  game !"  He  leveled  his  stick  menacingly. 
"Now,  looky  here,  Braxton!"  he  exclaimed  sternly. 


ii4         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"I'm  being  easy  with  you  because  you're  a  gray- 
headed  old  man,  but — " 

By  Jove,  it  was  plain  he  had  struck  a  sensitive 
point ! 

"Gray-headed  old  man !"  shouted  the  fellow,  com 
ing  out  of  the  chair  like  a  rubber  ball,  and  pointing 
to  his  reflection  in  the  long  mirror.  "Does  that  look 
like  gray  hair — that  red  topknot?  It'll  be  gray, 
though,  if  this  infernal  craziness  goes  on  much 
longer — I'll  say  that  much!"  And  back  he  flopped 
into  the  chair. 

The  two  officers  exchanged  glances,  and,  by  Jove, 
they  looked  ugly ! 

"Call  for  the  wagon,  Tim,"  said  O'Keefe  shortly, 
indicating  the  'phone.  "The  fool's  going  to  give 
trouble.  Kahoka  Apartments,  tell  them.  Hurry; 
let's  get  him  to  the  street." 

He  made  a  dive  at  the  figure  in  the  chair  and 
jerked  him  forward. 

But  his  grip  seemed  to  slip  and  he  only  moved  his 
prisoner  a  few  inches.  He  tried  again  with  about 
the  same  result. 

"Get  a  move  on,  Tim,"  he  said  pantingly.  "He's 
bigger,  somehow,  than  he  looks,  and  awful  heavy; 
it'll  take  both  of  us.  Get  up,  Braxton,  unless  you 
want  the  club!" 

The  man  settled  solidly  in  the  depths  of  the  chair. 

"Club  and  be  hanged !"  he  replied  with  a  snap  of 
his  jaw.  "I  won't  go  in  any  dirty  police  wagon— 


I    SEND    A   MAN    TO   JAIL  115 

that's  flat !  You  may  take  me  in  a  hearse  first.  Get 
a  cab  or  a  taxi,  if  I  have  to  go  with  you !" 

"Gamey  old  sport,  anyhow,  by  Jove!"  I  thought 
with  sudden  admiration.  Couldn't  help  it,  dash  it! 
Heart  just  went  out  to  him,  somehow. 

I  gently  interposed  as  O'Keefe  prepared  to  lunge 
again. 

'Til  stand  the  cab  for  him,  officer,"  I  said  with  a 
smile,  "if  your  rules,  don't  you  know,  or  whatever 
it  is,  will  allow." 

I  added  in  a  lowered  voice : 

"Makes  it  devilish  easier  for  you,  don't  you  know, 
and  avoids  such  a  jolly  row.  And — er — I  want  to 
ask  you  and  your  friend  to  accept  from  me  a  little 
token  of  my  appreciation." 

The  policeman  exchanged  a  glance  with  Tim  and 
considered. 

"Well,  sir,"  he  said,  "as  to  the  cab,  of  course  if 
you're  a  mind  to  want  to  do  that,  it's  your  own  af 
fair." 

He  turned  to  his  companion. 

"Just  cancel  that,  Tim,"  he  directed.  "Call  a 
four-wheeler." 

"Thank  you,  Lightnut,"  put  in  the  old  man  grate 
fully.  "You  have  got  a  grain  of  decency  left,  by 
George,  after  all !" 

Meantime,  Jenkins  was  answering  my  inquiry. 

"I  don't  believe,  sir,  you  have  a  bit  of  cash  in  the 
house.  You  told  me  so  when  you  were  retiring." 


n6         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

By  Jove,  I  remembered  now !  The  poker  game  in 
the  evening! 

I  was  wondering  whether  they  could  use  a  check, 
when  I  spied  Billings'  wallet  on  the  table. 

The  very  thing,  by  Jove ! 

Examination  showed,  first  thing,  a  wad  of  yellow 
backs,  fresh  from  the  bank.  I  peeled  off  two  and 
pushed  them  into  the  officer's  hand. 

"This  belongs  to  a  friend  of  mine,"  I  remarked ; 
"but  it's  just  the  same  as  my  own,  don't  you  know, 
and  he  won't  mind.  Dash  it,  we're  just  like 
brothers !" 

A  howl  of  maniacal  laughter  from  the  old  fool  in 
the  chair  startled  us  both. 

"Regular  Damon  and  Pythias,  damn  it!"  he  gab 
bled,  grinning  with  hideous  face  contortions.  "One 
for  all,  and  all  for  one!  And  just  help  yourself; 
don't  mind  me.  Why — hell!" 

O'Keefe  prodded  him  sharply  in  the  shoulder 
with  his  night  stick. 

"Stop  your  skylarking  now,  Foxy,"  he  admon 
ished  angrily,  "and  come  on.  Here  the  gentleman's 
gone  and  put  up  his  money  for  a  cab  for  you  and 
you  ought  to  want  to  get  out  of  his  way  so  he  can 
rest." 

"He's  sure  been  kind  to  you,"  supplemented  Tim, 
whose  eye  had  noted  the  passing  of  the  yellow  boys. 

"Kind !"  mocked  the  old  geezer,  showing  his  scat 
tered  teeth  in  a  horrible  grin.  "Why,  he's  a  lu-lu,  a 
regular  Samaritan!" 


I    SEND    A    MAN    TO    JAIL  117 

"No  names!"  warned  O'Keefe,  slightly  lifting  his 
night  stick.  "Come  on  to  the  street — you  seem  to 
forget  you're  under  arrest." 

He  added  hastily : 

"And  I  ought  to  have  warned  you  that  anything 
you  may  say,  Foxy — " 

"Oh,  you  go  to — Brooklyn !"  snarled  Fox; .  "For 
two  pins  I'd  knock  your  block  off,  you  fat-headed 
Irish  fool !  Think  I'm  going  down  to  the  sidewalk 
without  my  clothes?" 

"Are  your  clothes  somewhere  in  this  building?" 
I  asked  with  some  sympathy. 

He  whirled  on  me  sneeringly  and  jeered  like  a 
jolly  screech  owl : 

"Oh,  no ;  not  exactly  in  the  building — they're  on 
the  flagpole  on  the  roof,  of  course!  He-he-he! 
Bloody  good  joke,  isn't  it?" 

I  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  table  wearily ;  and,  catch 
ing  the  policeman's  eye,  shrugged  my  shoulders  sig 
nificantly. 

"You're  right,  sir,"  he  said  apologetically.  "We 
won't  fool  a  second  longer.  Here,  you  take  that 
side,  Tim.  Let's  pull !" 

And  they  did  pull,  but,  by  Jove,  they  couldn't  raise 
him. 

"Queerest  go  I  ever  see,"  Tim  gasped.  "He  ain't 
holding  on  to  nothing,  is  he?  And,  O'Keefe,  he 
feels  big!" 

"Pshaw,  it's  not  that,"  the  other  panted ;  "it's  just 
the  way  he's  sitting.  Why,  you  can  see  he  ain't  so 


n8         THE   HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

very  big."  He  nodded  to  Jenkins  and  the  janitor. 
"Here,  you  two !  Help  us,  can't  you  ?" 

And  with  one  mighty,  united  heave,  they  brought 
the  loudly  protesting  old  man  to  his  feet  and  held 
him  there.  O'Keefe  faced  me. 

"Might  be  well  to  take  a  look  around,  sir,  and  see 
if  you  think  of  anything  else  he's  stolen,  before  we 
take  him  off." 

"Good  idea,  Lightnut!"  Old  Braxton  stopped 
struggling  and  whirled  his  head  toward  me,  his  face 
almost  black  with  rage.  "Ha,  ha!  Why  don't  you 
have  me  searched?  There's  not  a  pocket  in  these 
damn  pajamas !" 

"Anything  whatever,  sir,  we'll  have  him  leave  be 
hind,"  said  O'Keefe. 

"By  Jove !"  I  don't  know  how  I  ever  managed  to 
say  it.  Fact  is,  things  had  just  suddenly  spun  round 
before  me  like  a  merry  what's-its-name.  For  I  did 
recognize  something!  The  old  fellow's  unabashed 
reference  to  pajamas  was  what  brought  it  to  my  at 
tention. 

"Ha!"  O'Keefe  nodded.  "There  is  something! 
Just  say  the  word,  sir." 

I  looked  helplessly  at  Jenkins,  and  then  I  saw  that 
of  a  sudden  he  recognized  them,  too.  His  eyes 
rolled  at  me  understandingly. 

"What  is  it,  sir?"  demanded  O'Keefe  respect 
fully.  "The  law  requires— 

I  swallowed  hard.  "It — it's  the  pajamas,"  I  said 
faintly. 


I    SEND    A    MAN    TO    JAIL  119 

The  old  rascal  uttered  a  roar  and  tried  to  get  at 
me. 

"You  cold-blooded  scoundrel!"  he  bellowed.  "So 
this  is  why— 

But  here  a  jab  of  the  night  stick  took  him  in  the 
side  with  a  sound  like  a  blow  on  a  punching  bag. 
Words  left  the  old  man  and  he  gasped  desperately 
for  breath.  O'Keefe  tried  to  shake  him. 

"Did  you  get  those  pajamas  in  here?"  he  de 
manded  fiercely,  and  he  drew  back  his  stick  as 
though  for  another  jab.  But  the  old  geezer  nodded 
quickly,  glaring  at  me  and  trying  to  wheeze  some 
thing. 

"That's  enough,"  said  the  officer.  He  turned  to 
me.  "You  recognize  them,  do  you,  sir?" 

"I — I  think  so,"  I  stammered,  looking  at  Jenkins, 
who  nodded.  "They  belong  to  a  friend  of  mine  who 
— a — must  have  left  them  here." 

"I  see."  He  fished  out  a  note-book.  "Mind  giv 
ing  me  the  name,  sir?  Just  a  matter  of  form,  you 
know—  He  licked  his  pencil  expectantly. 

"Oh,  I  say,  you  know — "  I  gasped  at  Jenkins.  "I 
don't  think  she— I—" 

"Certainly  not,  sir,"  affirmed  Jenkins,  solemnly 
looking  upward. 

"She?"  The  note-book  slowly  closed,  then  with 
the  pencil  went  back  into  the  officer's  pocket.  "Ex 
cuse  me,  sir.  H'm!" 

"H'm!"  echoed  Tim  apologetically.  Then  they 
both  glared  at  Foxy. 


120         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

The  old  man  just  snarled  at  them.  He  was  like 
a  dog  at  bay. 

"All  right!"  he  hissed.  "You  just  try  to  take 
them  off — I'll  kill  somebody,  that's  all.  Think  I'm 
going  to  make  a  spectacle  of  myself?" 

Jenkins  whispered  to  me. 

"To  be  sure,"  I  said  aloud.  "He  might  as  well 
wear  them  now  to  the  station.  Just  so  he  returns 
them  when  he  gets  his  clothes." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  said  O'Keefe,  relieved.  "We'll 
see  he  does  that.  Come  along  now,  Braxton — shut 
up,  I  tell  you !" 

And  with  all  four  of  them  behind  the  charge,  they 
managed  to  rush  the  loudly  protesting  old  man  to 
the  door. 

"I  zvon't  go  without  my  clothes,  I  tell  you,"  he 
raged. 

But  he  did.  Fighting,  swearing  and  protesting, 
the  jolly  old  vagabond  was  roughly  bundled  into  the 
elevator. 

"Good  night,  sir,"  called  O'Keefe  as  the  four  of 
them  dropped  downward.  "We'll  let  you  know  if 
it  seems  necessary  to  trouble  you." 

Once  again  inside,  Jenkins  and  I  just  stared  at 
each  other  without  a  word,  we  were  that  tired  and 
disgusted.  To  me,  the  only  dashed  crumb  of  com 
fort  in  the  whole  business  was  the  wonderful  fact 
that  Billings  seemed  to  have  slept  like  a  jolly  Rip 
through  the  whole  beastly  row. 

Very  softly  I  opened  his  door  again,  so  that  the 


I    SEND    A    MAN    TO    JAIL  121 

breeze  flowed  through  once  more.  Jenkins  put  out 
the  lights,  and  I  stood  there  listening,  but  could  hear 
no  sound  within  the  room,  for  the  street  below  was 
already  heralding  the  clamor  of  the  coming  day. 

Jenkins'  whisper  brushed  my  ear  as  I  moved 
away: 

"Sleeping  like  a  baby,  ain't  he,  sir?" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

FRANCES 

T)  Y  Jove,  it  seemed  to  me  I  had  been  asleep  about 
••-'  a  minute  when  I  saw  the  sunlight  splashing 
through  the  blinds. 

Jenkins  stood  beside  me  with  something  in  his 
hand. 

"Didn't  hear  me,  did  you,  sir?"  he  was  asking.  "I 
said  I  thought  the  address  looked  like  Mr.  Billings' 
handwriting.  And  he's  gone,  sir." 

"Gone?" 

I  sat  up,  rubbing  the  sleep  from  my  eyes.  I  had 
a  befogged  notion  that  Jenkins  looked  a  little  queer. 

"Yes,  sir.  He's  not  in  his  room,  nor  in  the  apart 
ment  anywhere." 

"Eh — how — what's  that  ?"  For  Jenkins'  hand  ex 
tended  an  envelope. 

"Perhaps  you  would  like  to  read  this  now,  sir." 

It  was  from  Billings — I  knew  his  fist  in  an  in 
stant.  It  was  very  short  and  without  heading.  In 
fact,  above  his  name  appeared  just  a  half-dozen  pen 
ciled  words,  heavily  underscored,  and  without  punc 
tuation  : 

Damn  you  send  me  my  clothes 
122 


FRANCES  123 

"His  clothes  ?"  I  looked  perplexedly  at  Jenkins. 

He  was  looking  a  little  pale  and  held  his  eyes  fix 
edly  to  the  picture  molding  across  the  room.  He 
coughed  gently. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  uttered  faintly;  "they're  in  his 
room,  but  he  ain't." 

"By  Jove !"  I  remarked  helplessly.  And  just  then 
I  remembered  something  that  brought  me  wide 
awake  in  an  instant 

I  questioned  eagerly: 

"I  say — that  desk  lamp  in  there,  Jenkins — did  you 
switch  it  on  in  the  night?  And  the  doors  I  found 
open — know  anything  about  them?"  And  Jenkins' 
blank  expression  was  the  reply. 

"By  Jove,  Jenkins!"  I  gasped. 

Jenkins  compressed  his  lips.     "Exactly,  sir." 

"Er — what  were  you  thinking,  Jenkins?"  I  ques 
tioned  desperately.  And  I  think  Jenkins'  stolidity 
wavered  before  my  anxious  face. 

"It  ain't  for  me  to  be  thinking  anything,  sir — be 
sides,  the  messenger's  waiting — but —  His  hand 
sought  his  pocket. 

He  stepped  back,  leaving  something  on  the  stand 
by  my  bed. 

"What's  that?"  I  questioned  in  alarm.  "Another 
note?" 

"No,  sir — not  exactly,  sir.  But  if  I  may  suggest 
—without  offense,  sir — that  you  fill  it  out,  I  will  see 
that  it  gets  to  him." 


124         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Him  ?    Who's  him— he,  I  mean  ?" 

"Doctor  Splasher,  sir,  the  temperance  party  I  was 
speaking  of.  I've  already  filled  out  mine,  and  I'm 
going  to  put  one  in  for  Mr.  Billings  when  I  send  the 
clothes."  From  the  doorway  he  turned  a  woebe 
gone  countenance  toward  me.  "It's  heartrending, 
sir — if  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  so — to  think  of  a 
nice  gentleman  like  Mr.  Billings  wandering  over  to 
the  club  with  nothing  on  but  red  pajamas." 

But  when  I  telephoned  they  stated  that  Mr.  Bil 
lings  had  not  been  at  the  club  since  last  evening. 
Some  one  who  answered  the  'phone  thought  Mr. 
Billings  was  with  his  friend,  Mr.  Lightnut,  in  the 
Kahoka  Apartments.  And,  of  course,  I  knew  jolly 
well  he  was  not. 

As  I  turned  from  the  telephone,  something  in 
Jenkins'  expression  arrested  my  attention. 

"Well?"  I  said  impatiently,  for  he  has  so  many 
devilishly  clever  inspirations,  you  know;  and,  dash 
it,  I  like  to  encourage  him. 

"Pardon,  sir,  but  don't  you  think — "  Here  he 
looked  straight  up  at  the  electrolier  and  coughed. 
"About  Mr.  Billings,  sir ;  I  was  going  to  suggest  that 
though  he  isn't  over  at  the  club,  he's  somewhere, 
sir." 

Why,  dash  it,  I  thought  that  jolly  likely,  myself! 
I  said  so. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Jenkins  darkly.  "And  Mr.  Bil 
lings  usually  knows  where  he  is.  I  guess,  sir,  he's 
in  this  neighborhood — h'm!" 


FRANCES  125 

I  just  sat  staring  at  him  a  minute,  thinking  what 
a  devilish  wonderful  thing  intuition  is  for  the  lower 
classes. 

"By  Jove,  Jenkins!"  I  said;  "then  you  think — " 

"I  think  Mr.  Billings,  sir,  might  prefer  to  find 
himself — h'm!  Yes,  sir."  Jenkins  lifted  the  break 
fast  tray  with  deliberation,  removed  it  from  the 
room,  and  returned,  moving  about  the  furniture  and 
busying  himself  with  an  air  of  mystery.  Dash  it, 
I  knew  he  had  up  his  sleeve  some  other  devilish 
clever  notion,  and  so  presently  I  spoke  up  just  to 
touch  him  off. 

"By  Jove!"  I  remarked. 

"Yes,  sir."  Jenkins  rested  the  end  of  the  crumb 
brush  on  the  table  and  considered  me  earnestly. 
"You  know,  Mr.  Lightnut,  last  night  as  Mr.  Billings 
was  retiring,  he  says  to  me :  'Jenkins,  Mr.  Lightnut 
has  promised  to  go  up  home  with  me  to-morrow  for 
the  week  end.  There's  a  tenner  coming  your  way  if 
he  doesn't  forget  about  it.  He's  to  go  to-morrow, 
now,  mind  you,  Jenkins;  and  it  don't  matter  what 
comes  up.  You  see  that  he  goes  up  to-morrow.' ' 

"By  Jove !"  I  said  as  he  paused,  and  I  screwed  my 
monocle  tighter  and  nodded.  "I  see." 

Of  course  I  didn't  see,  but  I  knew  the  poor  fellow 
was  driving  at  something,  and  I  wanted  to  give  him 
a  run. 

"Exactly,  sir."  And  he  stood  waiting.  "So,  shall 
I  pack,  sir?  You'll  want  to  take  the  four-ten  ex 
press,  I  suppose?" 


126         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

By  Jove,  it  was  the  most  amazingly,  dashed  clever 
guess  I  ever  knew  Jenkins  to  get  off !  Fact !  I  knew 
that  if  there  was  one  thing  more  than  another  in 
all  the  world  that  I  wanted  to  do,  it  was  to  take  that 
four-ten  express.  To  think  of  seeing  Frances  again, 
and  to-day! 

Of  course,  it  was  quite  clear  that  Billings  must 
have  anticipated  the  possibility  of  something  un 
usual,  and  that  was  why  he  had  impressed  a  sort  of 
personal  responsibility  upon  Jenkins — kind  of  tip 
ping  him  off,  as  it  were,  so  he  would  be  sure  to  see 
that  I  got  off  in  case  he  did  not  show  up  himself.  It 
was  very  easy  to  see  this,  especially  as  Jenkins  saw 
it  that  way,  too,  but  what  made  it  specially  sc 
awfully  jolly  easy  to  see  was  the  fact  that  I  wanted 
to  go,  you  know. 

So  I  let  Jenkins  shoot  a  wire  up  to  Billings,  stat 
ing  my  train,  and  I  just  had  to  chuckle  as  in  my 
mind's  eye  I  saw  old  brazen  face  Jack  coming  down 
to  the  station  to  meet  me,  and  just  ignoring  his  go 
ing  off  in  the  middle  of  the  night  in  my  pajamas.  By 
Jove,  perhaps  he  would  bring  her  down  to  the  train 
in  his  car,  so  I  would  be  sure  not  to  ask  him  any 
questions ! 

I  left  Jenkins  to  travel  by  a  later  train,  and  a  little 
after  four  I  was  whirling  above  Spuyten  Duyvil 
and  looking  about  the  chair-car  to  see  if  there  was 
any  one  I  knew.  But,  by  Jove,  there  was  hardly  a 
soul  in  the  car — nobody  except  just  women,  you1 
know,  and  these  filled  the  whole  place.  And  they 


FRANCES  127 

were  talking  about  all  sorts  of  dashed  silly  things. 
Most  of  them  were  devilish  pretty  as  the  word  goes, 
but,  of  course,  not  a  patch  on  her.  Oh,  well,  of 
course,  they  couldn't  be  that !  Don't  know  how  they 
were  behind  me,  you  know — too  much  trouble  to 
turn  round  and  fix  my  glass.  So  I  just  took  the 
range  in  front,  looking  at  the  tops  of  the  hats  and 
the  chairs  and  wondering  if  women  would  ever  be 
come  extinct  like  that  bird — the  great  what's-its- 
name,  you  know. 

"By  Jove,  she  could  be  spared !"  I  thought,  study 
ing  a  young  woman  who  stood  in  the  aisle  beside  me. 
She  was  rather  heavy  set — what  you  might  call  egg- 
shaped.  Her  face  and  her  heavy  glasses  seemed  to 
proclaim  a  mission  in  life,  and  the  dowdyish  cut  of 
her  rig  and  the  reckless  way  it  was  hurled  on  made  it 
plain  that  she  was  on  to  the  fact  that  nature  had 
made  a  blunder  in  her  sex,  and  she  wanted  the 
world  to  know  she  knew. 

She  was  talking  to  the  lady  immediately  behind 
me.  At  least,  I  discovered  after  five  minutes  that 
she  was  talking.  By  Jove,  up  to  that  time,  I  thought 
she  was  canvassing  for  a  book!  The  other  never 
got  in  a  word,  don't  you  know.  And  I  was  getting 
devilish  tired  of  it  and  wishing  she  would  move  on, 
when  she  shifted,  preparatory  to  doing  so,  and  raised 
her  voice : 

"Very  well,  then,  if  you  don't  care  to  come,  I 
think  I  will  go  forward  again  and  finish  the  discus 
sion  with  Doctor  Jennie  Newman  upon  the  meta- 


128         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

morphoses  of  the  primordial  protoplasms.  Watch 
out  for  Tarrytown  now,  Frances." 

Tarrytown !  Frances !  By  Jove,  my  heart  skipped 
a  beat ! 

The  other  murmured  something. 

Her  voice!  Her  blessed,  sweet  voice,  of  which 
every  syllable,  every  shade,  was  indented  in  my 
memory  like  the  record  of  a  what's-its-name !  By 
Jove,  my  Frances,  and  right  behind  me ! 

All  I  could  do  to  sit  still  a  minute  longer,  but  I 
knew  jolly  well  if  I  turned  now  I  would  be  intro 
duced  to  the  freak  and  lose  I  couldn't  tell  how  many 
precious  moments  with  my  dear  one.  So  I  sat  low 
in  the  chair,  polishing  my  monocle,  you  know,  and 
noting  with  satisfaction  that  my  part  reflected  all 
right  in  the  little  strip  of  mirror.  I  tried  to  get 
a  glimpse  of  her  in  it,  too,  but  all  I  could  see  was  a 
glorious  white  hat — a  stunning  Neapolitan,  flanked 
with  a  sheaf  of  wild  ostrich  plumes. 

And  then  the  freak  left.  I  watched  her  spraddle 
down  the  aisle  and  out  through  the  little  corridor 
before  I  dared  risk  the  accident  of  a  backward  turn 
of  that  funny  green  hat. 

Then,  when  all  was  safe,  I  took  a  deep  breath, 
gripped  hard  the  arms  of  the  chair,  and  whirled 
suddenly  around. 

"Frances!"  I  whispered.     "My  darling!" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"YOU  NEVER  SAW  ME  IN  BLACK" 

!"  she  gasped  faintly. 

That  was  all  she  said  at  first,  her  big  blue 
eyes  wide  distended,  her  white-gloved  wrists  curv 
ing  above  the  chair-arms  as  though  to  rise.  Easy  to 
see  she  was  completely  floored  at  seeing  me. 

And  as  it  was  her  move,  I  just  sat  kind  of  grin 
ning,  you  know,  and  holding  her  tight  with  my  mon 
ocle. 

Then  her  mouth  twitched  a  bit;  next  her  head 
went  up  and  I  heard  again  that  delicious  birdlike 
carol  of  a  laugh.  Her  eyes  came  to  rest  upon  the  hat 
in  my  hand.  I  had  slipped  my  Harvard  band  around 
it,  remembering  the  admiration  she  had  expressed 
for  our  colors. 

"Oh !"  she  said  again,  and  she  looked  at  me  hesi 
tatingly.  "Mr.  Jones,  is  it  not — or  is  it — -" 

I  chuckled.  "Mr.  Smith,  you  know,"  I  said. 
"Mr.  Smith,  of  course." 

And  then  I  just  went  on  chuckling,  for  I  thought 
it  so  devilish  clever  of  her,  so  humorous.  And  just 
then  I  thought  of  a  dashed  good  repartee : 

"Months — so  many  months,  you  know,  since  we 
129 


i3o         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

met!"  And  I  thought  it  delightful  the  way  she 
puckered  her  lovely  little  forehead  and  looked  me 
over.  But  she  just  looked  so  devilish  enticing,  I 
couldn't  keep  it  up  myself.  I  leaned  nearer  and  spoke 
behind  my  hat,  trying  to  look  the  love  I  felt. 

"Didn't  expect  to  see  me,  did  you  ?" 

She  looked  at  me  oddly  and  bit  her  lip.  But  her 
eyes  were  dancing  and  the  delicious  dimple  in  her 
cheek  twitched  on  the  verge  of  laughter.  She 
shook  her  head. 

"Indeed  I  did  not."  And  again  came  that  odd 
look  in  her  face  as  though  she  were  studying,  kind  of 
balking,  don't  you  know.  By  Jove,  she  was  per 
fectly  dazzling ! 

"My  dearest!"  slipped  softly  from  me  as  I  held 
the  hat. 

She  stared.  Then  once  more  that  canary  peal  of 
merriment. 

"Oh,  dear!"  Then  her  face  sobered  and  she  al 
most  pouted.  "Now  you  mustn't — please,  recdly — 
it  gets  so  tiresome.  Don't  you  American,  or  rather, 
you  Harvard  men,  ever  talk  anything  to  a  girl  but 
love?  Why,  it's  absurd."  She  smiled,  but  her 
lashes  dropped  reproof.  By  Jove,  I  was  taken  back 
a  little!  Evidently  she  was  piqued  with  me  about 
something,  but  what  the  devil  was  it?  And  then  I 
thought  I  had  it. 

I  slipped  nearer — to  the  edge  of  the  chair. 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  in  town  to-day — 'pon 
honor,  I  didn't.  Billings  never  said  a  word  about 


YOU    NEVER    SAW    ME    IN    BLACK       131 

it,"  I  explained.  "Why,  clash  it,  I  would  have  given 
anything  to  have  known." 

She  looked  at  me  with  a  queer  little  smile,  stroked 
her  little  lip  with  the  point  of  one  gloved  finger  and 
looked  across  the  river  at  the  Palisades.  Dash  the 
Palisades !  Never  could  see  any  sense  in  them,  any 
how! 

"Oh,  thank  you,  but  Elizabeth  and  I  didn't  know 
ourselves  until  last  evening  that  we  would  make  the 
New  York  trip.  She  wanted  to  hear  a  suffragette 
lecture  at  the  Carnegie,  and  I  had  some  shopping  to 
do." 

And  she  just  gave  me  one  of  those  calm,  self-con 
tained,  thoroughbred  sort  of  smiles  that  are  harder 
to  get  past  than  a  six-foot  hedge.  What  the  deuce 
was  the  matter  with  the  girl?  Something  had 
changed  her;  yet  I  knew  that  nothing  could  really 
change  her  at  heart — never. 

But  it  was  certain  that  she  was  put  out  about 
something.  I  would  just  have  to  play  her  easy  and 
try  to  find  out  what  it  was.  I  remembered  hearing 
Pugsley  say — and  he  has  had  no  end  of  experience 
with  them — that  when  women  are  put  out  they  ex 
pect  you  to  find  out  what  it  is,  no  matter  how  devil 
ishly  improbable  or  unreasonable  it  may  be. 

And  just  then  I  remembered  another  clever  idea 
of  Pugsley's — what  he  said  was  a  corking  good  way 
of  diverting  their  minds. 

"I  say,  you  know,"  I  said  suddenly — and  though 
I  threw  a  whole  lot  of  enthusiasm  into  my.  face  in 


1 32         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

carrying  out  his  idea,  I  didn't  have  to  try  very  hard 
— "I  think  that's  a  ripping  gown.  White  is  ever  so 
much  more  your  style  than — than — " 

By  Jove,  I  swallowed  just  in  time!  But  it  had 
roused  her.  I  could  see  her  brighten. 

"Oh !"  she  said.  "Let  me  see — what  is  it  you  re 
member?"  And  she  kind  of  muttered,  "Perhaps  I 
can  tell  from  that — " 

She  paused  expectantly. 

"Oh,  I  say,  you  know!"  And  I  twirled  the  hat, 
feeling  a  bit  rattled.  Why  the  deuce  did  she  want 
to  rub  it  in? 

"But  I  want  you  to  tell  me."  Her  beautiful  eyes 
were  teasing. 

"You  know — in  black."     I  twirled  the  hat  faster. 

"Black!"  She  stared,  her  exquisite  lips  standing 
apart  like  the  two  petals  of  a  rose.  "Why,  I  never 
wore  black  in  my  life.  You  know  you  never  saw 
me  in  black." 

I  felt  hurt.  I  couldn't  blame  her  for  wanting  to 
appear  to  forget  about  it,  but  still — 

She  must  have  seen  my  face  fall,  for  I  know,  by 
Jove,  I  could  just  feel  it  kind  of  collapse,  I  was  that 
hurt  and  disappointed.  Her  face  softened  kindly 
and  I  took  courage,  for  my  devilishly  alert  mind  just 
then  hit  upon  another  explanation.  I  recalled  that 
she  had  thoughtlessly  left  the  pajamas  in  my  rooms. 
I  also  realized  with  dismay  that  Foxy  Grandpa  had 
promised,  or  rather  the  officers  had  promised  for 


YOU    NEVER    SAW    ME    IN    BLACK       133 

him,  that  they  should  be  returned  promptly.  And, 
by  Jove,  I  had  forgotten  all  about  them ! 

"Never  mind,"  I  said,  thinking  aloud,  as  I  fre 
quently  do.  "I'll  telephone  about  them  as  soon  as  we 
get  to  Wolhurst."  Then  a  terrible  shock  struck  me. 
"Oh,  I  say,  you  didn't  have  your  name  on  them,  did 
you?" 

"On  what?"  How  kindly,  even  if  quizzically,  she 
was  regarding  me!  The  big  white  hat  shifted  an 
inch  or  two  nearer.  I  realized  with  joy  that  she  was 
beginning  to  forget  about  being  put  out  with  me. 

"Why — "  I  looked  about  cautiously  and  dropped 
my  voice,  though  it  was  not  likely  any  one  could 
hear  above  the  quiver  of  the  train.  "Why,  in  your 
black  pajamas  you  left  in  my  rooms." 

A  kind  of  little  gasp  was  all  I  heard,  and  then  she 
was  on  her  feet  and  looking — not  at  me,  but  above 
my  head — looking  away  off  down  the  length  of  the 
car.  Somehow — why,  I  couldn't  understand — I  had 
a  wierd,  horrible  feeling  of  abasement,  as  though  I 
had  killed  a  child,  or  had  done  some  other  dashed 
unreasonable  thing  like  that.  Her  face  had  flushed 
but  now  was  deadly  white.  And  then,  by  Jove,  I 
saw  she  was  looking  for  another  chair. 

I  jumped  up  at  once  and  moved  into  the  aisle. 

"I'm  so  sorry,"  I  said  miserably,  "so  sorry,  dear, 
I  hurt  you.  I  didn't  mean  ever  to  speak  of  the  paja 
mas.  I  knew  you  wanted  to  forget  about  the  other 
night,  and  I  knew  you  wanted  me  to  forget,  too — " 


I34         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Oh,  please — "  She  shrank  back,  her  beautiful 
eyes  like  those  of  a  frightened  deer.  But  it  was  the 
last  car,  and  I  blocked  the  aisle.  I  didn't  realize  at 
the  time  that  I  was  doing  it.  It  came  to  me  after 
ward,  and  was  one  of  the  things  I  kicked  myself 
about  for  hours,  more  or  less.  Just  at  the  moment  I 
was  so  dashed  wild  about  setting  myself  right  with 
her.  The  only  other  thing  I  had  presence  of  mind 
to  remember  was  the  nearness  about  us  of  a  lot  of 
beady-eyed  cats,  and  so  I  drew  nearer  and  lowered 
my  voice  so  none  could  hear.  For  I  had  another 
feeling  of  inspiration  as  to  what  really  was  the  mat 
ter  with  her ! 

Matter!  I  should  say,  rather!  She  was  begin 
ning  to  look  angry — splendidly  angry — her  eyes 
just  blazing  blue  fire.  I  knew  I  would  have  to  get  in 
my  explanation  quickly,  and  what's  more,  if  what 
Pugsley  thought  was  true,  I  would  have  to  hit  the 
jolly  nail  on  the  head  or  else  everything  was  off, 
you  know. 

"Why,  Frances — sweetheart,"  I  pleaded  softly- 
just  loud  enough  for  her  to  hear  above  the  train,  "I 
know  you  are  put  out  with  me  because  you  found  me 
gone  the  next  morning,  but  honestly,  dear,  I  acted 
for  the  best — indeed,  I  did."  And  to  be  on  the  safe 
side,  I  profited  by  another  inspiration :  "And,  my 
darling  girl,  I'll  never  mention  the  pajamas  and 
the  other  night — never  any  more — as  long  as  we 
live,  nor  the  cigarettes  nor  cigars  nor  whisky.  Why, 
I  don't  care  if  you — " 


YOU    NEVER    SAW    ME    IN    BLACK       135 

"Tarrytown — all  out  for  Tarrytown!"  came  in  a 
high  tenor  voice  from  the  end  of  the  car,  and  some 
thing  bowled  down  the  aisle  and  brushed  me  aside. 
It  was  the  frump. 

"Come  on,  Frances !"  she  exclaimed  sharply ;  "our 
station."  Next  instant  they  were  streaking  it  for 
the  door,  with  me  a  good  second.  I  saw  Frances 
look  behind  once  with — oh,  such  a  look!  Dashed  if 
it  didn't  shrivel  me,  you  know — that  sort.  And,  by 
Jove,  I  knew  Pugsley  was  right,  and  that  I  had 
failed  to  put  the  ball  over ! 

I  was  not  six  feet  behind  as  they  scrambled 
/through  the  station  to  the  other  side  where  a  large 
car  stood  panting.  I  saw  Frances  clutch  the  frump's 
'arm  and  whisper  something,  and  I  heard  the  frump's 
reply,  for  her  voice  was  loud  and  strongly  mas- 
•culine. 

"Crazy?"  she  rasped.  "Nonsense!  Drunk,  more 
/likely.  Most  of  them  are  half  the  time." 

I  didn't  have  time  to  see  what  she  referred  to,  for 
just  then  we  reached  the  side  of  the  car.  I  didn't  see 
a  thing  of  Billings,  but  the  chauffeur  jumped  to  the 
ground  and  received  the  ladies  and  their  bags.  He 
seemed  to  me  devilish  familiar,  too.  By  Jove,  the 
way  he  held  my  darling's  hand  was  the  most  in 
fernally  audacious,  outrageous  thing  I  ever  beheld! 
I  should  have  liked  to  punch  his  head.  He  helped 
them  into  the  tonneau  and  was  so  busy  with  his  silly 
jackass  chatter  that  he  closed  the  door  before  he 
turned  and  saw  me.  I  was  just  standing  there,  lean- 


136         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

ing  a  little  forward  with  my  cane,  you  know,  and 
fixing  my  monocle  reproachfully  on  Frances — try 
ing  to  get  her  eye. 

And  then,  by  jove,  I  felt  a  blow  on  my  shoulder 
that  almost  bowled  me  over,  for  I  had  my  legs 
crossed,  you  know. 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged— it's  Dicky!"  And  he  was 
grinning  at  me  like  a  what's-its-name  cat.  And  with 
the  grin  I  recognized  him.  It  was  the  fresh  young 
fool  who  had  been  so  devilish  familiar  at  the  pier 
the  morning  Frances  left. 

Then  he  banged  me  again,  dash  it,  and  tried  to 
get  my  hand,  but  I  put  it  behind  me.  But  he  did  get 
my  arm,  and  he  turned  toward  the  car.  His  voice 
dropped. 

"See  here,  I  want  you  to  meet —  Eh?"  He  broke 
off,  staring  at  the  frump,  who  was  making  signs 
with  her  eyes,  frowning  and  beckoning  him  with  her 
green  flower-pot.  He  left  me,  murmuring  some 
thing,  and  stepped  to  the  running-board.  I  could 
see  the  flower-pot  bobbing  about  energetically  and 
twice  Frances  nodded,  it  seemed  to  me  reluctantly. 

"Crazy — drunk?  Pshaw,  you're  batty!"  he  said 
to  the  frump  rudely.  Then  I  heard  another  mur 
mur  and  his  harsh  voice  rose  again :  "Yes — Light- 
nut,  I  tell  you — Dicky  Lightnut.  Yes — Jack  Bil 
lings'  great  friend.  You  just  wait  till  he's  back 
from  the  city,  and  if  he  don't  get  upon  his  hind — 
Eh,  what?  His  name  is  Smith?  Rats!" 

All  this  time  I  was  just  standing  there,  trying  to 


YOU    NEVER    SAW    ME    IN    BLACK       137 

catch  Frances'  eye.  I  felt  sure  if  I  could  catch  her 
eye  she  would  see  how  devilish  sorry  I  was.  I 
moved  back  a  few  feet,  for,  dash  it,  without  a  sign 
from  her,  I  had  no  idea  now,  of  course,  of  consid 
ering  myself  as  one  of  the  party.  Not  finding  Bil 
lings  with  the  car,  and  the  information  I  caught  that 
he  was  still  in  the  city,  just  left  me  high  and  dry,  you 
know. 

"All  right,  Miss  Smarty,"  the  yellow-topped 
chauffeur  rasped,  addressing  the  frump,  "I'll  just 
show  you!" 

He  turned  about  and  jerked  his  head. 

"Oh,  Dicky !  Here,  just  a  minute,  old  chap — will 
you?" 

Of  course  I  took  no  notice  of  him  whatever.  In 
fact  I  looked  in  the  other  direction. 

"Lightnut!"  he  called.  I  just  stared  up  at  the 
castle  on  the  hill.  I  felt  devilish  annoyed,  though. 
I  recalled  a  conversation  the  other  day  at  the  club  in 
which  Van  Dyne  remarked  that  the  intimacy  af 
fected  now  by  chauffeurs  was  growing  insufferable. 
Declared  his  man  had  asked  him  for  a  light  that 
morning. 

The  fellow  stared  a  little;  then  he  came  toward 
me,  smirking  in  a  jocular,  impertinent  way. 

"Say,  stop  your  kidding,  old  man,"  he  muttered ; 
"girls  have  no  sense  of  humor,  you  know.  Come 
along — I've  just  been  telling  them  you  are  my  best 
friend." 

I   stole   another  look   at   the   car,   but   Frances 


138         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

avoided  me;  so  I  came  to  a  decision.  I  turned 
shortly  on  the  driver. 

"See  here  now,  my  good  fellow,"  I  said  sharply, 
"you  stop  subjecting  those  ladies  to  annoyance. 
Drive  on,  or  I'll  report  you  to  my  friends." 

He  stared — seemed  to  be  trying  to  stare  me  out  of 
countenance,  in  fact.  Then  the  grin  slowly  faded. 

"Why,  Dicky!"  he  exclaimed  in  an  aggrieved 
tone,  "don't  you  remember  me — don't  you  know 
me?" 

"I  certainly  do  not,"  I  answered  with  decision.  I 
felt  my  face  getting  red  with  vexation.  "And  what's 
more,  my  name  is  not  'Dicky.'  ' 

His  hand  slowly  swept  his  chin  and  he  whistled. 

"Wha—  Well,  I'll  be  jiggered!"  He  whirled 
toward  the  car. 

"On  me,  this  time,  I  guess!    You're  right!" 

Then  his  face  clouded  and  he  moved  down  upon 
me. 

"Here,  you  get  along  now  about  your  business, 
whoever  you  are!"  His  hand  waved  as  though 
sweeping  me  away.  "I've  a  mind  to  kick  you  for 
annoying  that  young  lady." 

He  looked  toward  Frances  and  I  could  see  he  was 
showing  off.  But  I  thought  she  looked  a  bit  dis 
gusted.  As  for  the  frump,  she  suddenly  opened  the 
door,  stepped  down  and  then  up  again,  but  this  time 
behind  the  steering  wheel. 

"If  you  don't  come  on,  I'm  going,"  she  said 
quietly. 


YOU    NEVER    SAW    ME    IN    BLACK       139 

"Just  a  minute,"  he  said,  scowling  back  at  her.  He 
faced  me. 

"Look  here,  if  I  hit  you  once" — he  leveled  his 
finger — "well,  they'll  have  to  pick  you  up  with  a 
sponge,  that's  all !" 

But,  except  for  fixing  my  glass  for  a  better  study 
of  Frances,  I  never  moved.  Didn't  occur  to  me  as 
necessary,  you  know,  until  she  should  drive  off. 
Just  stood  leaning  on  my  cane  and  with  feet  crossed, 
you  know,  in  the  way  I  had  long  ago  found  was  the 
least  exhausting,  if  one  has  to  stand  at  all.  But,  by 
Jove,  the  fellow  was  right  in  my  face  now,  almost ! 
Devilish  annoying! 

"Did  you  hear  me,  you  glass-eyed  fool?"  he 
barked  in  my  ear.  "You  masher!  By  George,  I'll 
mash  you !" 

And  he  looked  at  Frances  again  and  laughed,  but 
she  was  looking  away  off  up  at  the  big  stone  castle 
on  the  Pocantico  Hills  behind.  And  I  just  reveled  in 
her  glorious  profile,  splashed  bright  by  the  golden 
sunshine  reflected  from  the  Tappan  Zee  opposite. 
Incidentally,  I  was  trying  in  my  mind  the  three  arm 
movements  that  must  be  made  as  one,  and  for 
which,  to  learn,  I  had  paid  the  great  master,  Galliard 
of  Paris,  a  thousand  francs  in  gold. 

The  car  began  to  edge  away. 

"All  right — coming!"  he  yelled;  and  then  he 
launched  his  blow.  But  so  rapid — instantaneous,  in 
fact — are  the  famous  three  movements  of  the  great 
scientist,  I  don't  remember  that  my  eye  even  shifted 


1 40         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

its  grip  upon  the  monocle.  Therefore,  as  I  came 
back  into  the  same  position  again  as  his  shoulder 
hit  the  ground,  I  was  in  time  to  catch  my  darling's 
eye  at  last  just  as  they  curved.  And,  by  Jove,  she 
looked  amused — and  pleased. 

As  for  the  frump,  she  frankly  and  harshly 
laughed,  and  then  moved  up  a  speed,  just  as  a  south 
bound  express  took  the  station. 

And  I  swung  aboard  it,  back  for  little  old  New 
York.  Didn't  see  what  the  chauffeur  did.  Wasn't 
interested,  you  know,  about  that. 


CHAPTER  XV 
BILLINGS'  SYMPTOMS  ALARM  ME 

"A  /TOST  infernal  outrage  of  the  century,  I  tell 
-*•*-*•  you!"  Billings  stormed.  For  an  hour  I  had 
sat  there  in  my  rooms,  limp  and  bewildered  under 
the  tempest  of  his  wrath.  The  wild  and  incoherent 
sputter  over  the  'phone  that  Jenkins  reported  upon 
my  return  had  sent  me  on  a  hunt  for  my  friend.  I 
had  found  him  sullenly  dining  alone  over  at  the  club, 
and  as  soon  as  I  entered  he  started  to  bolt  from  the 
room.  Only  through  the  greatest  pleading  had  I 
managed  to  coax  him  back  to  my  chambers,  hoping 
I  might  screw  out  of  him  some  explanation. 

I  had  received  it,  by  Jove! 

Of  course,  I  recognized  it  all  as  impossible  and 
crazy,  you  know,  but  when  I  said  so  to  Billings  his 
remarks  were  so  violent,  and  he  turned  such  a  dan 
gerous  apoplectic  purple,  dashed  if  I  didn't  renege. 

"But  then  the  old  man,  you  know!"  I  protested 
weakly. 

Billings  leveled  his  big  arm  at  me,  mouthing 
wordlessly  for  a  minute. 

"That— that'll  do,  about  that  old  man !"  he  choked 
at  last.  "Not — not  another  word  about  him !"  And 

141 


1 42          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

finally  he  collapsed  into  his  seat  from  sheer  ex 
haustion.  Just  sat  there  panting  and  glaring  at  me 
like  a  jolly  bulldog. 

Gradually  he  became  calmer. 

"Tell  you  what :  the  only  thing  that  lets  you  out, 
Dicky,  is  the  way  Van  Dyne  and  Blakesley  did,  in 
turn,  when  I  got  them  there." 

He  spoke  savagely,  but  I  brightened  a  little. 

"Oh!"  I  said.  "Didn't  they  recognize  you, 
either?" 

Billings'  snort  made  me  jump. 

"Recognize!"  he  bellowed.  "They  went  back, 
mad  as  hell !" 

"By  Jove !"  I  said  soothingly. 

"That's  not  all,"  continued  Billings  grimly.  "I 
was  so  sure  it  was  a  put-up  job,  some  asinine,  fool 
joke,  I  wrote  a  cautious  note  to  the  governor.  After 
a  lot  of  pleading,  I  got  the  fools  to  send  it.  He 
came." 

Billings  paused  dramatically. 

"Oh,  yes,  he  came!"  he  went  on,  fixing  me  with  an 
excited  eye.  "And  when  I  staggered  forward  and 
did  the  prodigal  son  act  on  his  neck,  he  handed  me  a 
punch  that  jolted  off  his  silk  tile.  Went  straight  up 
in  the  air  with  the  whole  bunch  down  there  and  con 
tracted  to  do  things  for  them  that  will  keep  him 
active  for  a  year.  Threatened  to  have  me  sent  up 
for  forgery — this  is  my  own  father  now,  mind  you 
— forgery  of  my  own  name!  Huh!" 

Billings  strode  to  the  end  of  the  room  and  back. 


ALARMING    SYMPTOMS  143 

Then  he  sat  down  again,  beating  with  his  foot  upon 
the  floor. 

"Say,  has  everybody  gone  crazy?"  he  demanded. 

I  didn't  dare  say  a  word,  for  I  had  my  own 
opinions,  you  know,  and  I  knew  it  wouldn't  do  to 
express  them.  Only  excite  him.  Best  way  seemed 
just  to  pretend  to  swallow  it  all,  you  know.  Best 
way  always,  Pugsley  says,  especially  with  best 
friends. 

"They  were  pretty  nasty  after  that,"  Billings  went 
on  gloomily;  "and  they  wouldn't  send  for  any  one 
else.  Just  had  to  sit  there  in  that  infernal  bastile 
with  nothing  on  but  pajamas  and  a  pair  of  bedroom 
slippers.  Every  once  in  a  while  somebody  would 
come  and  address  me  as  'Foxy,'  and  want  me  to  send 
for  my  clothes  or  else  send  out  and  buy  some.  Fi 
nally,  a  big  brute  came  and  threw  me  some  dirty; 
rags  and  said  I'd  have  to  put  on  those  or  else  buy 
some  others.  Buy  some,  Dicky — did  you  get  that?-^> 
buy  some !" 

"Devilish  rude,  /  say,"  I  commented  indignantly. 
"Who  wants  to  wear  bought  clothes  ?  Why,  dash  it, 
my  tailor  says — 

"Pshaw!"  Billings  whirled  his  fat  head  impa 
tiently.  "You  miss  the  whole  point,  Dicky !  I  didn't 
have  a  cent  of  money;  and  what's  more,  I  couldn't 
get  any."  He  paused.  "See?  Try  to  get  that,  Dicky 
— make  an  effort,  old  chap." 

I  did,  but,  dash  it,  it  was  such  a  rum  idea — very 
oddest  thing  he  had  said — and  silly,  you  know. 


I44         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

Fancy  any  one  not  being  able  to  send  out  and  get 
money!  I  just  got  to  thinking  what  a  jolly  queer 
idea  it  was  and  lost  part  of  what  Billings  was  saying 
— something  about  how  he  managed  to  get  them  to 
send  a  note  for  his  clothes.  Here  is  what  I  did  hear : 

"And  I  had  just  got  into  the  togs  and  stuffed  the 
rubies  and  pajamas  out  of  sight  in  my  pocket,  when 
the  particular  brigand  who  had  charge  of  my  coop 
came  back.  He  almost  threw  a  fit  when  he  saw  me. 
'Where's  Twenty-seven?'  he  wanted  to  know.  And 
then,  before  I  could  say  a  word,  he  blustered  up  to 
me  with :  'And  say,  what  business  you  got  in  here  ? 
Clear  out !'  And  you  bet  I  didn't  lose  a  single  golden 
minute — I  cleared.  You  should  have  seen  me  beat 
it  down  that  corridor !  The  fellow  followed  me  a  lit 
tle,  grumbling  to  himself.  Then  he  called  to  a  cop 
who  was  just  coming  in:  'Say,  O'Keefe,  run  that 
young  fat  freak  out  of  here,  will  you?  It's  one  of 
that  bunch  of  visitors  that  went  through  just  now. 
Fresh  thing — snooping  into  the  cells !' 

"And  so  the  same  cop  that  brought  me  there — the 
very  same — was  the  one  that  shoved  me  out  of  the 
door,  warning  me  that  I'd  best  not  go  poking  into 
the  prisoners'  cells  again  if  I  knew  what  was  good 
forme!" 

"By  Jove !"  I  ventured  sympathetically. 

Billings  nodded.  "Of  course,  I  knew  it  was  a 
semi-lucid  interval  with  them  all,  but  for  all  I  knew 
it  might  pass  any  instant  and  some  bat  discover  I 
was  a  Dutch  scrubwoman  escaped  from  Hoboken. 


ALARMING    SYMPTOMS  145 

So  I  broke  for  the  first  taxi  and  hit  it  up  for  the 
club." 

Billings  took  a  deep  breath  and  went  on : 

"By  George,"  he  said,  laughing  nervously.  "I 
felt  like  a  dog  with  a  can  to  its  tail  hunting  for  a 
place  to  hide.  Every  time  a  fellow  looked  at  me  I 
had  heart  failure  until  he  called  me  by  my  own  name. 
Bribed  Eugene  to  lie  about  my  whereabouts  until 
his  face  hurt  and  then  I  went  to  bed.  Sneaked  out 
of  my  hole  this  evening  to  get  a  bite  of  something, 
and  then  you  ran  me  down. 

"And  Dicky" — Billings  finished  excitedly— "I 
was  sure  you  had  come  to  drag  me  back  to  my  dun 
geon,  and  I  looked  behind  you,  fully  expecting  to 
see  those  two  Irish  pirates.  If  I  had,  I  should  have 
swooned  in  my  soup,  that's  all !" 

I  murmured  my  sympathy.  And,  by  Jove,  I  cer 
tainly  did  have  a  heartache  about  him,  but  of  course 
I  couldn't  tell  him  why.  I  was  getting  him  quieted — 
I  could  see  that — and  he  was  so  far  mollified  as  to 
help  himself  to  a  cigar.  When  he  had  clipped  a  V 
from  the  end  with  hiss  knife,  he  leaned  over  and 
tapped  me  impressively  on  the  knee  with  the  blade. 

"And  just  think,  Dicky,"  he  said,  absently  em 
phasizing  with  the  sharp  point  of  the  knife,  "there 
I  sat,  moneyless — not  even  a  dime,  you  know — in 
a  suit  of  pajamas  whose  three  buttons  were  worth 
one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars !" 

He  fell  back,  his  fat  arms  eloquently  outspreading. 

"Can  you  beat  it?"  he  demanded. 


I46         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

I  rubbed  my  palm  on  my  knee  and  considered. 

Privately,  I  thought  I  could  beat  it — by  Jove,  I 
was  sure  I  could !  I  knew  of  a  pair  of  pajamas 
worth  a  dashed  sight  more  than  money.  And  I  won 
dered  gloomily  where  they  were.  I  had  telephoned 
as  soon  as  I  stepped  out  at  the  Grand  Central  Sta 
tion,  and  after  a  bit  made  them  understand  who  I 
was  and  reminded  them  that  the  black  pajamas  had 
not  been  returned  according  to  promise.  And  then 
they  told  me  Foxy  Grandpa  had  escaped,  but  as  he 
had  nothing  else  on,  they  felt  sure  of  rounding  him 
up  as  soon  as  he  came  out  of  his  hiding-place — 
probably  after  dark. 

"By  the  way,  old  chap,"  puffed  Billings,  his  poise 
and  good  humor  improving  under  the  spell  of  the 
cigar,  "I  was  sorry  to  return  the  pajamas  torn  and 
dusty  and  wrinkled  as  they  were.  But  you  see,  on 
account  of  the  rubies,  I  was  leary  about  having  them 
pressed  or  fussed  over.  So  I  wrapped  and  sealed 
them  myself,  just  as  one  does  a  jewel  package.  Got 
them,  did  you?" 

I  stared  at  Billings  through  my  glass. 

"Didn't  you  get  them?"  he  questioned  in  alarm. 

"Yes,  yes — it's  all  right,  old  chap,"  I  said  hastily 
and  as  pleasantly  as  I  could.  "Eugene  delivered  the 
box  to  Jenkins  and  I  opened  it  myself.  Thought  it 
was — h'm — thought  it  was  something  else."  Then 
I  proceeded  soothingly :  "But  you're  just  a  little 
mistaken  about  the  dust  and  wrinkles,  old  chap — 
and  about  them  being  torn.  Ha,  ha !  Good  joke !" 


ALARMING    SYMPTOMS  147 

But  Billings'  face  was  unresponsive. 

"Why,  you  goop,"  he  said  with  cheerful  contempt, 
"there's  a  triangular  tear  in  the  back  of  the  coat  you 
could  stick  your  head  through;  and  one  of  the 
sleeves  is  in  ribbons." 

I  just  opened  the  drawer  of  the  table  and  took  out 
the  box — glove  box,  I  think  it  was — containing  the 
pajamas.  I  had  read  something  somewhere  about 
the  clearing  effect — the  reaction,  and  that  sort  of 
thing,  produced  sometimes  by  a  shock. 

"See  for  yourself,  old  chap,"  I  said  gently.  And 
I  lifted  out  the  gossamer  fabrics  and  again  spread 
their  crimson  glory  under  the  lamp.  Billings  exam 
ined  them  eagerly,  but  just  looked  confounded. 

"Don't  understand  it,"  he  said,  biting  his  nails. 
"Why,  hang  it,  they  look  smooth,  too,  as  though 
never  worn.  And  the  rubies  are  all  right,  too." 

He  rested  his  chin  upon  his  hands  and  gloomed  at 
the  red  sweep. 

I  caught  a  few  sentences  of  his  mumbling. 

"By  George,  I'm  half  a  mind  to  think  there's 
something  in  the  pajamas,"  he  muttered — "some 
thing  uncanny  and  disagreeable — something  they're 
alive  with!" 

I  sprang  up  and  back,  overturning  my  chair. 

"Good  heavens — oh,  I  say!"  I  exclaimed  in  con 
sternation,  as  I  fixed  my  glass  on  the  garments.  "It's 
your  jail,  then,  you  know— 

His  hand  checked  my  reach  to  the  bell  push. 

"Don't  be  any  more  kinds  of  an  ass  than  you  can 


i48         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

help,  Dicky/'  he  said  with  rude  irritability.  "I'm 
talking  about  something  else ;  and  I  haven't  got  any 
jail,  dammit!  A  station  house  isn't  exactly  a  jail!" 

He  reached  for  another  cigar  and  went  off  into  a 
brown  study,  wrapping  himself  in  clouds  of  smoke. 
I  thought  that  maybe  if  I  kept  quite  still  he  might 
come  to  himself  all  right.  Meantime,  for  want  of 
something  to  do,  and  to  keep  from  getting  so  devil 
ish  sleepy,  I  fell  to  turning  over  the  pajamas,  admir 
ing  their  beauty  and  daintiness  and  kind  of  half- 
daringly  wondering  how  she  would — 

And  suddenly  I  made  a  discovery;  and  I  forgot 
about  keeping  still. 

"By  Jove,  Billings!"  I  exclaimed  excitedly. 
"Here's  something  inside  the  collar — some  sort  of 
jolly  writing!" 

"What's  that  ?"  said  Billings  sharply.  He  jerked 
the  garment  from  my  hand  and  held  it  in  the  light. 
All  round  the  circle  within  the  collar  band  ran  four 
or  five  darker  red  lines  of  queer  little  crisscross 
characters. 

"Chinese  laundry  marks,  you  idiot,"  he  com 
mented  carelessly.  And  then  he  ducked  his  head 
closer  with  a  quick  intake  of  breath. 

"By  George,  Dicky!"  he  cried,  his  voice  tremulous 
with  some  excitement.  "Can't  be  that  either;  it's 
woven  in — awfully  fine,  neat  job,  too.  Now,  what 
do  you  suppose — 

He  broke  off  wonderingly. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AN   INSCRIPTION   AND   A   MYSTERY 

"OILLINGS  rubbed  his  chin  perplexedly. 
^-*     "By  jigger,  now,  I  wonder  what  those  hen 
tracks  mean  ?"  he  uttered  musingly.   Then  he  looked 
up  at  me  with  sudden  animation  in  his  face. 

"Look  here,  Dicky,"  he  exclaimed,  "do  you  hap 
pen  to  know  Doozenberry  ?" 

I  tried  to  remember.  I  shut  one  eye  and  studied 
the  marks  closely  through  my  glass,  but  had  to  shake 
my  head  at  last. 

"Sorry,  old  chap;  don't  seem  to  remember  it  at 
all  if  I  ever  did — not  a  dashed  glimmer  of  it  left." 
I  yawned.  "Never  tried  to  keep  any  of  those  college 
things,  you  know." 

Billings,  who  had  been  staring,  uttered  a  rude 
comment. 

"It's  not  a  language,  you  cuckoo,"  he  snapped; 
"it's  a  man.  He's  a  D.S. — distinguished  scientist, 
you  know.  What's  more,  he's  one  of  your  neigh 
bors,  right  in  this  building." 

"Don't  know  him,"  I  said  a  little  stiffly.  "What's 
his  club?" 

Billings  all  but  gnashed  his  teeth. 
149 


150         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Club,  thunder!"  he  jerked  out  impatiently. 
"Why,  man,  he's  a  member  of  all  the  great  societies 
of  the  world — bodies  whose  rank  and  exclusiveness 
put  the  blink  on  all  the  clubs  you  or  I  ever  saw.  Got 
a  string  of  letters  after  his  name  like  a  universal 
keyboard,  and  is  the  main  squeeze,  the  great  scream, 
among  all  the  scientific  push  over  here  and  in  Eu 
rope.  Lots  of  dough,  but  off  his  trolley  with  learn 
ing." 

"And  in  this  building?"  I  said  wonderingly. 
"What's  he  like?" 

For  a  moment  I  had  a  thought  of  Foxy  Grandpa, 
but  the  janitor  had  said  he  did  not  belong  in  the 
building.  Besides,  Billings'  next  words  removed 
that  clue  to  the  lost  pajamas.  By  Jove,  how  I  did 
long  to  ask  his  advice  about  them !  Once  I  was  on 
the  point  of  doing  so — had  devilish  narrow  escape, 
in  fact — but  pulled  up  on  the  brink.  So  deuced  hard 
to  remember  that  anything  so  delicate  and  sweet  and 
fetching  could  be  Billings'  sister,  you  know.  I  had 
been  wondering  for  an  hour  whether  I  had  better 
say  anything  about  my  adventure  up  at  Tarrytown 
— wondered  if  she  would  like  me  to. 

"Here,  you  moon  calf,  wake  up!"  Billings'  coarse 
voice  brought  me  back  to  the  present,  and  I  had  to 
blink  and  pretend  I  was  listening.  "I'm  telling  you 
about  Doozenberry !  I  say  you  surely  must  have  seen 
him — you  couldn't  miss  him  in  a  black  cave.  Queer- 
looking  old  skate,  tall  as  a  street  lamp  and  as  thin ; 


AN  INSCRIPTION  AND  A  MYSTERY     151 

looks  like  a  long  cylinder  of  black  broadcloth.    So 
dignified  it  hurts  him. 

I  reflected. 

"Awfully  large  head,"  continued  Billings,  elevat 
ing  his  hands  some  two  feet  apart,  "pear-shaped  af 
fair — big  end  up — bumps  on  it  like  halves  of  grape 
fruit,  porcupine  eyebrows,  and — " 

"Oh,  I  know,"  I  said,  nodding  eagerly;  "and  a 
little,  shriveled — well,  kind  of  mashed  sort  of  face, 
-eyes  beadlike  and  jolly  small.  I've  got  him  now! 
I've  gone  down  with  him  in  the  elevator." 

Billings  nodded.  "You've  got  him  painted,"  he 
said  drily.  "That's  the  professor;  only,  his  eyes  are 
anything  but  'jolly.'  I've  ridden  in  the  elevator  with 
him  myself.  Always  manages  to  look  like  he  was 
traveling  with  a  bad  smell !" 

"Devilish  sensitive,  I  dare  say." 

Billings  looked  at  me  suspiciously,  but  I  had  got 
taold  of  the  thing  I  was  trying  to  recollect  arid  I  went 
on  quickly : 

"By  Jove,  you  know,  I  believe  Jenkins  knows  his 
man — fellow  who  butlers,  and,  I  believe,  cooks,  for 
him.  He  and  Jenkins  belong  to  the  same — how  do 
they  call  it? — same  club  of  gentlemen's  gentlemen." 

Billings  brought  his  fist  down.  "Let's  have  Jen 
kins  in,"  he  suggested.  And  we  did. 

"I  say,  Jenkins,"  I  began,  "this-Professor  Doodle 
bug  above  us — " 

"Doozenberry !"  Billings  sharply  corrected. 


.152         THE   HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Well,  some  jolly  rum  thing  about  him,  don't  you 
know,  Jenkins — something  you  said  his  man  told 
you — remember,  eh?" 

Jenkins'  eyes  batted  a  little. 

He  cleared  his  throat.  "Why,  yes,  sir ;  he  told  me 
a  lot  of  funny  things  one  night,  sir.  Don't  suppose 
he  would  have  done  it,  only  him  and  me  had  an  even 
ing  off  and  we — we — " 

Jenkins  seemed  to  hesitate. 

"And  you  went  on  a  bat  together,"  suggested 
Billings,  rubbing  his  hands  pleasantly. 

"It  was,  sir,"  Jenkins  admitted,  looking  at  me 
sadly.  "Leastways,  he  sort  o'  loosened  up  as  he  got 
-got—" 

"Pickled,"  Billings  helped  smoothly. 

"Quite  so,  sir;  there's  some  is  that  way  always; 
some  is  taken  other  ways."  Jenkins  considered  Bill 
ings  moodily.  "The  power  of  the  demon  rum,  sir." 

"Ah,  true!"  sighed  Billings,  lifting  his  eyes. 

"This  here  chap,  he  got  to  going  on  and  all  but 
crying  about  his  cursed  hard  fate — them's  his  own 
words,  sir — his  cursed  hard  fate  in  having  to  drink 
water  all  the  time  and  eat  cow  feed — " 

"Eat  what?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir — that's  what  he  called  it — • 
something  the  perfesser  has  him  fix  out  of  cereals 
and  nuts  and  sour  milk.  That's  all  they  have,  sir: 
and  they  don't  have  no  cooking,  for  the  perfesser 
says  it  breaks  the  celluloid — " 

"Cellular,"  corrected  Billings. 


AN  INSCRIPTION  AND  A  MYSTERY     153 

"Maybe  so,  sir,"  demurred  Jenkins.  "He  said 
celluloid — the  celluloid  tissue  papers,  he  called  it. 
And  then  his  having  no  heat  on  all  winter  and  the 
windows  kept  open  all  the  time  and  the  snow  piling 
up  on  his  bed  at  night  kept  him  with  colds  all  the 
year.  And  then,  there  was  the  dampness — 

"That's  it,  the  dampness!"  I  exclaimed.  "Tell 
him." 

"Why,  sir,  he  told  me  that  every  night  he  had  to 
turn  down  the  perfesser's  bed  and  go  all  over  it  with 
a  two-gallon  watering  can — 

"Watering  can !"  gasped  Billings. 

"I'm  telling  you  what  he  says,  sir.  Then  he  covers 
it  all  up  again,  and  in  about  a  half-hour  the  per- 
fesser  turns  the  covers  down;  and  if  it's  what  he 
calls  'fine' — that  is,  damp  all  over — he  climbs  in  and 
sleeps  like  a  top." 

"Cold-water  bug,  you  know,"  I  explained,  but 
Billings  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"That's  all  right.  Bug  or  not,  he's  the  goods,  all 
the  same.  Greatest  ever."  He  spoke  with  quiet  con 
viction. 

He  deliberated  a  moment  and  turned  to  me. 

"Tell  you  what,  Dicky:  I'm  going  up  and  ask 
him  down.  He's  the  one  to  give  us  the  right  dope 
on  these  crazy  letters — Eh,  what  you  say,  Jenkins?" 

"Beg  pardon,  sir;  I  was  saying  that  the  perfesser 
don't  visit  nobody;  and  he  never  sees  nobody  but 
the  big  lit'ry  and  scientific  sharps." 

"Oh,  he  don't  eh?"  Billings  snorted  contemptu- 


i54         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

ously.  "Well,  Jenkins,  I  haven't  been  a  prize  fisher 
man  in  my  time  for  nothing ;  I  gtiess  I  know  how  to 
select  my  'fly.'  I  know  what  will  fetch  him :  'Mr, 
Lightnut's  compliments,  and  will  he  be  pleased  to 
honor  him  by  passing  upon  an  Oriental  curio  of  rare 
scientific  interest?' — that  sort  of  merry  rot!  Why, 
you  couldn't  hold  him  back  with  a  block  and  tackle. 
Oh,  you  needn't  worry;  I'll  do  the  proper  curves 
all  right."  He  turned  toward  the  door.  "And,  Jen 
kins,  you  come  along  and  work  me  into  the  lodge." 

"Oh,  but  dash  it,"  I  protested  nervously,  "he  won't 
come — he'll  be  insulted.  Why,  he'll  know  as  soon  as 
he  sees  you  that  you  couldn't — 

I  checked  myself,  recalling  that  the  best  thing 
after  his  recent  exhibition  was  to  avoid  every  con 
tradiction.  And  then,  by  Jove,  I  knew  that  if  he 
became  ill  and  had  to  go  to  a  hospital  or  somewhere, 
it  would  be  all  off  with  his  taking  me  up  to  Wolhurst 
next  day. 

Billings  grinned  confidently.  "Watch  me  bring 
him  down  here,"  he  said. 

And  by  Jove,  he  did ! 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE    PROFESSOR 

T)ILLINGS  ushered  in  the  professor  with  a  flour- 
-L'  ishing  introduction. 

The  great  man  never  spoke,  but  gave  me  the  end 
of  one  finger,  and  devilish  grudgingly  at  that.  He 
just  came  to  anchor  and  stood  there  very  straight 
and  stiff,  ignoring  the  chairs  thrust  toward  him  from 
every  point.  One  hand  was  stuck  in  his  stiff  broad 
cloth  bosom,  with  elbow  pointing  outward,  and  his 
great  topheavy  head  reared  above  us  impressively. 

Billings  rubbed  his  hands  and  bowed  and  smirked. 

"Lovely  weather  we  are  having  for  summer,  don't 
you  think,  Professor?  Jenkins,  a  chair  for  the  pro 
fessor." 

He  was  already  hedged  in  by  chairs,  but  he  re 
mained  standing.  Dash  it,  he  was  staring  hard  at 
me,  his  beady  eyes  boring  like  gimlets,  don't  you 
know,  and  his  little  shriveled  face  all  puckered  up. 
By  Jove,  but  he  looked  sour !  Looked  like  he  would 
bite,  or,  as  Billings  said  afterward,  would  like  to, 
if  the  human  race  wasn't  poisonous. 

"Wonderful  stunt,  science,  isn't  it,  Professor?" 
gushed  Billings,  still  rubbing  his  hands  and  grinning 

155 


156         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

like  a  wild  what's-its-name.  "Tracing  the  orbits  of 
the  shooting  stars  or  measuring  the  animals  in  the 
tiny  sewer  drop.  H'm!  Fascinating  pursuit!  And 
how  marvelous  it  must  be  to  be  able  to  classify  in 
stantly  any  specimen  of  man's  or  nature's  handi 
work — to — a — call  the  turn,  so  to  speak — right  off 
the  bat,  as  it  were.  H'm !  We  have  here  to-night — •- 
er— " 

With  his  hand  upon  the  pajamas,  Billings  paused, 
for  the  professor  paid  no  attention — did  not  even 
turn  round,  in  fact.  He  just  stood  there  staring 
at  me.  Billings  coughed  suggestively. 

"H'm !  As  I  was  saying,  we  have  with  us  to-night 
a  specimen,"  he  resumed  a  little  louder,  "I  may  say 
an  example  of  something  that,  while  apparently 
commonplace  and  prosaic,  is  really  a  rare  and 
unique — 

"Ha — specimen  genus  cypripedium,"  came  in  a 
squeaky  bark  from  the  professor  as  he  held  me  in 
his  eye.  "Linnaeus,  1753.  Ha!  Species  acaide — 
proper  habitat,  bogs.  Very  common — very  common, 
indeed." 

He  batted  at  me  sourly  and  seemed  disappointed. 

-By  Jove,  I  never  felt  so  devilish  mortified  in  all 

my  life!   Never!   I  nearly  dropped  my  monocle  and 

felt  myself  getting  jolly  red  about  the  ears.    This 

only  seemed  to  make  it  worse. 

"Ha — labellum  somewhat  pinker  purple  than  nor 
mal,"  he  proceeded.  "H'm!  Unusually  fresh  speci 
men." 


THE    PROFESSOR  157 

I  looked  appealingly  at  Billings.  "Oh,  I  say,  you 
know !"  I  exclaimed  in  dismay. 

Billings  had  been  standing  with  his  mouth  agape, 
but  now  he  made  a  stride  forward  and  touched  the 
professor  on  the  arm. 

"That's  Mr.  Lightnut,  Professor,"  he  said  blandly. 
"That's  not  the  specimen.  H'm!  Slight  mistake." 

Slowly  the  professor's  big  head  turned  on  its  axis 
and  his  little  eyes  blinked  at  Billings  nastily. 

"I  was  referring  to  the  orchid  in  the  gentleman's 
coat,"  he  observed  quietly,  and  turned  back  to  me. 

"Of  course!  Of  course!"  stammered  Billings  with 
eagerness.  "My  mistake — one  on  me.  Stung!"  his 
lips  pantomimed  to  me. 

I  addressed  the  professor  hospitably :  "Ah !  won't 
you  sit  down,  Professor?" 

He  drew  back,  frowning.  "Sit  down,  sir?"  he 
questioned.  And,  by  Jove,  by  this  time  he  showed 
his  teeth.  And  devilish  white,  even  teeth  they  were, 
too,  only  they  didn't  fit. 

"I  never  sit  down,  sir,"  he  said  stiffly ;  "never !" 

"By  Jove !"  I  explained. 

"To  be  sure!"  ejaculated  Billings,  looking  ex 
tremely  silly. 

The  professor  appeared  not  ungratified  with  the 
sensation  he  had  produced  and  condescended  to 
smile;  that  is,  if  you  can  call  a  creasing  and  wrin 
kling  like  the  cracked  end  of  a  hard-boiled  egg  a 
smile. 

"You  say,  'sit  down,'  sir,"  he  said,  addressing  me. 


158          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"I  ask  you,  in  turn :  Is  not  'sitting  down'  recrudes 
cence  back  to  the  primordial  ?" 

So  saying,  he  took  a  pinch  at  my  shirt  front  and 
stepped  back  again  impressively.  Still  addressing 
me,  he  continued : 

"It  is  such  thoughtless  indulgence  of  muscles 
growing  obsolescent  that  retards  the  evolution  of 
our  species,  a  species,  sir,  which  I  claim  is  coessen- 
tial  in  fundamental  attributes  with  contemporaneous 
amphibia.  Ha!  I  surprise  you,  perhaps?  Can  you 
note  in  me  a  resemblance  to  a  batrachian?" 

I  didn't  know.  And,  dash  it,  I  was  afraid  to 
chance  it.  Tried  my  jolly  best  to  think  what  a 
batrachian  was.  It  came  to  me  like  a  flash  that  it 
sounded  like  something  in  Italy. 

"By  Jove,  you  do,  though,  awfully!"  I  exclaimed, 
trying  to  brighten  up  over  it.  "Doesn't  he,  Billings  ? 
Noticed  a  resemblance  right  off,  don't  you  know." 

Billings  went  to  nodding  with  an  air  of  pleased 
surprise.  Dash  me  if  I  believed  he  knew  what  a 
batrachian  was,  though,  any  more  than  I  did.  But 
Billings  never  admits  anything. 

"Sure,"  he  said  glibly.  "I  was  half  suspecting  it; 
why,  look  at  the  skin,  you  know — and  features !" 

"By  Jove,  yes!"  I  said,  feeling  encouraged. 
"Head,  mouth,  nose,  eyes  and —  I  was  going  to 
say  "hair,"  but  I  remembered  in  time  about  the  wig. 

The  professor  looked  awfully  pleased.  He  gave 
me  a  finger  again. 


THE    PROFESSOR  159 

"Such  perspicacity — ah — is  rare  in  one  who  looks 
so—" 

He  coughed  slightly,  then  resumed : 

"How  gratifying,  indeed,  to  meet  another  investi 
gator!  A  student  in  zootomy,  no  doubt?  Ah!  Do 
not  deny  it ;  I  divined  it  at  once.  A  delightful  recrea 
tion,  sir — a  game,  absorbing  but  elusive." 

"Awfully  jolly,  you  know,"  I  agreed.  "Ripping, 
I  say!" 

"Surest  thing  you  know,"  chirped  Billings.  I  won 
dered  if  it  was  anything  like  polo. 

And  then,  by  Jove,  thinking  of  polo  sent  me  off 
again  thinking  of  Frances.  Not  that  she  was  like 
polo,  dash  it,  but  I  wished  she  could  see  me  play. 

The  professor  took  another  pinch  from  my  shirt 
front  and  favored  me  with  a  .rusty  smile. 

"Ah !"  he  said :  "You  must  take  time  to  look  into 
a  little  monograph  of  mine :  Man  in  Miniature;  a 
Study  of  the  Anthropology  of  the  Frog.  You  re 
gard  the  frog,  of  course?" 

"Oh,  I  say,  yes — fine,  you  know!"  I  answered, 
rny  mouth  watering.  By  Jove!  I  thought  of  the 
devilish  good  things  they  got  up  in  season  down  at 
the  Cafe  Grenouille. 

"My  dear  sir!"  The  professor  bowed  to  me.  "I 
can  not  express  to  you  how  gratifying  to  me  this 
meeting  is.  I  must  get  a  list  of  your  societies  and 
degrees.  So  few  appreciate  the  frog;  so  many,  even 
in  the  scientific  world,  deride  my  published  claim 


160         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

that  congenions  with  man  is  the  rana  mugiens  ot 
American  bullfrog." 

By  Jove!  they  were  certainly  congenial  with  me, 
all  right. 

"Awfully  hard  to  swallow  unless  well  done,  don't 
you  know,"  I  demurred  thoughtfully. 

"Truly  incredible,  sir!" 

The  professor  took  another  pinch  and  held  it  in 
front  of  him. 

"But  I  have  allowed  for  that,"  he  added,  empha 
sizing  with  his  other  hand.  "My  frog  brochure  meets 
that  difficulty  and  whets  the  appetite  of  the  most 
mediocre." 

"By  Jove,  Billings!"  I  exclaimed  eagerly,  "w$ 
must  tell  Marchand  about  it  over  at  the  club."  1 
was  so  devilish  tired  of  his  eternal  sauce  delicieuse, 
his  sauce  aigre,  his  sauce  ecossaise  and  the  rest,  don'K 
you  know. 

The  professor  inclined  his  head  gravely. 

"Ha,  French !  Then  Monsieur  Marchand  has  done 
something  with  the  frog,  has  he?"  he  questioned. 

"Twenty-nine  different  stunts,"  Billings  replied 
proudly.  "I  know  because  I'm  on  the  House  Com 
mittee.  Yes,  sir,  frogs  are  his  specialty;  that  man 
can  get  more  out  of  a  frog  than  any  other  living- 
man." 

The  professor  looked  a  little  nettled. 

"Oh,  indeed !"  he  said  rather  coldly. 

"I  tell  you,  Professor,  he's  got  'em  all  skinned!" 
Billings  enthused. 


THE    PROFESSOR  161 

The  remark  provoked  a  contemptuous  sniff. 

"Undoubtedly,  that  being  the  proper  condition 
preliminary  to  comparative  anatomical  study,"  said 
the  professor  loftily.  "Then  the  physical  resem 
blance  to'  a  man  becomes  startling.  I  have  identified 
every  analogy  with  man  except  the  beautiful  phe 
nomenon  of  the  beating  of  the  frog  heart  twenty- 
four  hours  after  separation  from  the  body — the  liv 
ing  body,  sir.  Experiment  upon  the  living  human 
specimen  is  necessary  for  confirmation  of  the  ho 
mologous  structure  of  the  two  hearts,  however.  This 
I  have  not  done — not  yet." 

He  spoke  gloomily.  I  looked  at  Billings  blankly 
but  I  found  Billings  was  looking  at  me  the  same 
way. 

Every  once  in  a  while  he  had  been  lifting  the 
pajamas.  He  would  cough  and  open  his  mouth,  but 
just  then  the  professor  would  start  off  again.  Once 
Billings,  with  an  awfully  savage  expression,  shook 
his  fist  at  our  visitor's  back  and  danced  up  and  down 
upon  the  rug. 

"The  indifference,  not  to  say  prejudice,  of  the 
public  upon  the  matter  of  human  vivisection  is  heart 
rending,"  went  on  the  professor  sadly.  "Sir,  I  have 
advertised  in  the  'help  wanted'  columns  of  the  daily 
press,  and  have  interviewed  scores  without  arousing 
one  spark  of  ambition  or  awakening  one  thrill  of 
gratitude  over  the  opportunity  offered  to  assist  me 
in  the  investigation  of  scientific  phenomena.  I 
pleaded,  sir ;  I  reproached ;  I  even  showed  them  the 


162          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

demonstration  upon  the  frog.  Did  I  move  them? 
Were  they  affected,  do  you  think?" 

I  shook  my  head  sympathetically.  Seemed  the 
safe  thing  to  do. 

"A  lot  of  pikers,  by  George!"  said  Billings  with 
an  air  of  indignation.  "Must  have  been  shameless!" 

"Deuced  indifferent,"  I  ventured.  "I  should  have 
been  regularly  cut  up." 

"Ah!  of  course  you  would,"  cried  the  professor, 
lifting  another  pinch.  "There  speaks  the  intelligent 
devotee  of  science!  But  did  they  see  it  that  way? 
Not  at  all,  sir;  they  were  only  indifferent  and  un 
grateful — they  were  rude  and — ah — boisterous! 
One  savage  primate  assaulted  me  with  his  bare 
knuckles.  A  blow,  gentlemen,  a  blow  from  the 
boasted  family  of  anthropina!" 

"Beastly  outrage,  Professor,"  growled  Billings. 
"Leave  it  to  me ;  I  know  a  chap  who's  got  a  pull  with 
the  police  commissioner,  and  I'll  just  tip  him  off, 
by  George.  It's  no  matter  what  family  they  are  or 
how  much  they  boasted.  It'll  be  the  hurry  wagon 
and  the  cooler  for  them,  eh,  Dicky  ?" 

He  gestured  to  me  wildly,  nodding  his  head  like 
a  man  with  the  what's-it-name  dance. 

"Deuced  good  idea.  Awful  rotters,  I  say,"  was 
my  comment. 

The  professor  seemed  affected  by  our  sympathy. 
He  withdrew  from  his  pocket  a  folded  handker 
chief,  slowly  opened  it  and  pressed  it  lightly  to  each 
eye.  Then  he  carefully  refolded  and  replaced  it. 


THE    PROFESSOR  163 

"Strange  thing,  the  persistence  of  the  primitive 
emotions,"  he  said,  sniffing  thoughtfully.  "Singular 
how  they  affect  the  lachrymal  apparati.  Peculiarly 
disagreeable  taste,  gentlemen,  that  of  tears,  despite 
their  simple  elementary  composition — ninety-nine 
and  six-tenths  per  cent,  water,  you  remember,  and 
the  rest  a  modicum  of  chloride  of  sodium,  mucus, 
soda  and  phosphates.  H'm!  Your  pardon,  gentle 
men,  for  this  digression,  but  to  have  sustained  a  stab 
under  this  very  roof  from  genus  homo!  It  is  in 
deed  hard." 

Here  Jenkins,  who  had  been  lingering  and  busy 
ing  himself  about  the  apartment,  whispered  to  me 
from  behind : 

"It's  that  dago,  sir,  that  delivers  fruit  every  day." 

"Eh?" 

"That's  the  name.  I  see  him  going  back  every 
morning." 

Jenkins  moved  off,  nodding  mysteriously,  as  I 
stared  at  him  through  my  glass.  In  his  way,  Billings 
was  speaking  words  of  comfort  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing  to  the  professor. 

"Never  mind;  the  law  will  get  'em  for  you,"  he 
reassured  him. 

"Ah!  that's  just  where  you  are  in  error,"  sighed 
our  guest.  "The  law,  sir,  will  not  get  a  single  sub 
ject  for  me.  In  this  age  of  unrestrained  liberty  of  all 
classes,  the  law  lends  no  aid  whatever  to  science.  It 
is  not  as  it  was  in  the  glorious  past  when,  under  im 
perial  patronage,  Vesalius,  the  great  father  of  anat- 


1 64         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

omy,  was  protected  when  by  mistake  his  scalpel  cut 
the  living  heart  of  a  Spanish  grandee.  Times  worth 
while,  gentlemen,  those  great  days  of  supreme  im-> 
perialism!  Ah!  there  was  no  lack  of  material  avail 
able  if  one  stood  in  a  little  at  court;  one  had  only  to 
designate  a  selection  and  the  thing  was  done.  Gra 
cious,  gentle  times,  my  friends !  Gone,  alas,  for 
ever !  Such  opportunities  are  impossible  under  a  re 
public." 

The  professor  shook  his  head  and  reached  for  his 
handkerchief  again.  But  this  time  he  only  blew  his 
nose. 

"Tempora  mutantur,"  he  murmured  regretfully, 
"Eh,  gentlemen?" 

"True,"  said  Billings,  pursing  his  lips.  "Ah,  how 
true!" 

"By  Jove,  ought  to  be  something  done,  you  know," 
I  declared. 

"Out  of  millions,  not  a  single  human  specimen 
available,"  groaned  the  professor  dismally.  "And 
my  instruments  ready  for  over  a  year." 

"Cheer  up,  sir;  you'll  have  a  go  yet,"  Billings  en-, 
couraged. 

"Ah!"  The  professor's  little  eyes  swept  Billings' 
person  critically.  "Perhaps  you,  sir,  would  like  the 
privilege — " 

Billings  staggered  back  a  step  or  two  precipitately. 

"Delighted;  nothing'd  give  me  greater  pleasure, 
but  so  infernally  busy,"  he  explained  hurriedly, 
"Just  my  confounded  luck;  unfortunately,  got  to  go 


THE    PROFESSOR  165 

to  Egypt  right  away — probably  to-morrow  morn- 
ing." 

The  professor  sighed  again  in  his  disappointment. 

"No  matter;  I  shall  find  some  one  in  time,"  he 
said  grimly.  "But  I  shall  abandon  this  foolish  per 
suasion  and  cajolery  as  unworthy  of  the  scientist. 
Do  we  lower  ourselves  with  such  devices  in  securing 
a  butterfly  or  a  grasshopper  or  a  frog  or  any  animate 
specimen  except  man?  Certainly  not;  we  capture 
.ind  etherize  them." 

He  glanced  about  the  room  and  beckoned  us  with 
fais  finger. 

"I  have  lately  had  my  eye  upon  the  gas  man,"  he 
«aid  in  a  low  tone.  He  closed  one  eye  impressively. 

"Ah!"  said  Billings,  his  mouth  dropping  open 
wide. 

"The  individual  who  comes  at  intervals  to  take  the 
.quarters  from  the  slot  meter.  H'm,  fine  subject,  gen- 
demen !" 

"Great!"  agreed  Billings. 

"Ripping  idea,"  I  tried  as  a  reply. 

The  professor  clasped  his  fingers  tightly  and 
rubbed  his  thumbs  one  over  the  other.  He  bright 
ened  visibly. 

"The  party  has  to  go  down  upon  his  knees  and 
stoop  behind  the  end  of  the  tub  in  the  bath-room," 
he  continued.  "It  was  my  thought  that  while  in  that 
advantageous  position  the  sudden,  quick  application 
of  a  Turkish  bath  towel  saturated  in  ether  would — 
Eh?  Do  you  follow  me?" 


1 66         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Devilish  clever,  you  know,"  I  said.  I  had  already 
selected  this  for  reply  for  this  time. 

Billings  failed  to  come  up.  He  just  stared  hard, 
rolled  his  eyes  and  ran  his  finger  around  under  his 
collar. 

The  professor,  in  the  act  of  taking  another  pinch 
from  my  shirt  front,  paused  with  a  little  jerk.  Then 
his  great  head  shot  forward  in  front  of  his  rigid 
neck — so  suddenly,  by  Jove,  that  I  reached  out  to 
try  to  catch  it,  don't  you  know.  He  made  just  two 
strides  to  the  table,  ten  feet  away,  and  pounced 
upon  the  pajamas  with  obviously  trembling  hands. 

And  behind  his  back  Billings  relapsed  into  an 
arm-chair  and  fanned  himself  with  a  magazine. 

His  head  dropped  back,  and  upon  his  fat  face 
was  a  what-you-call-it  smile  of  peace.  He  closed 
his  eyes  for  an  instant. 

"Suffering  Thomas  cats!  At  last!"  I  heard  him 
murmur. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

I    RECEIVE   A    SHOCK 

"  I  ^HE  professor  fumblingly  sought  through  his 
-*•  pockets,  and  producing  a  pair  of  spectacles  with 
phenomenally  large  lenses,  adjusted  them  shakily. 

He  bent  over  the  pajamas  eagerly. 

"Impossible!  And  yet,  it  is,  it  is!"  he  muttered. 
"I  would  know  the  weave  among  a  thousand.  It  is 
hers  undoubtedly,  undoubtedly — the  lost  silk  of  Si- 
Ling-Chi !  How  comes  it  here?" 

He  glared  around  rather  wildly  at  each  of  us  in 
turn.  Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  whisked  back 
to  the  pajamas,  and  fishing  out  a  thick  magnifying 
•tens,  scrutinized  the  garments  closely.  It  seemed 
that  he  would  certainly  nod  his  big  head  off  its  jolly 
hinge ;  and  his  quick  side  glances  at  Billings  and  my 
self,  together  with  his  growling  and  muttering,  just 
reminded  me  of  a  dog  with  a  bone,  by  Jove ! 

I  stared  at  Billings  and  Billings  stared  at  me,  and 
then  he  slipped  over  to  the  divan  upon  which  I 
dropped,  completely  exhausted,  dash  it,  from  stand 
ing  so  long. 

"Whose  did  he  say?"  he  whispered. 

"Celia  something,"  I  answered.  "Dash  it,  I  didn't 
167 


168         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

catch  her  surname.  Oh,  I  say,  you  know,  this  is 
awful!" 

I  felt  devilish  mortified.  Wondered  what  Frances 
might  think,  you  know.  Billings  drew  in  his  lips 
and  wagged  his  head  ominously.  He  waved  me 
nearer. 

"He's  on,"  he  breathed  behind  his  hand;  "he's 
looking  for  her  laundry  mark.  Now,  wouldn't  that 
f eaze  you  ?" 

An  exclamation  of  triumph  from  the  professor, 
another  glance  at  us,  and  a  hoarser  and  more  pro 
longed  mutter.  I  shifted  uneasily.  By  Jove,  I  didn't 
like  it  at  all ! 

Billings  lookeu  at  me  in  consternation.  "I 
wouldn't  be  in  your  shoes,  Dicky,"  he  whispered. 
"You'll  be  pinched  for  this,  sure." 

"Oh,  I  say,  now !   I  tell  you,  a  friend  in  China — " 

Billings  shrugged  impatiently.  "Just  a  plant,  you 
chowder  head,"  he  said,  viewing  me  pityingly.  "I 
tell  you  that's  how  all  these  blackmailing  schemes 
are  worked.  You  ought  to  be  more  careful." 

"But,  dash  it,  I  don't  even  know  her,  this  Celia 
what's-her-name,"  I  protested  miserably.  If  Fran 
ces'  brother  thought  that  way,  what  would  slie 
think? 

"Urn!  Maybe  you  don't,  but  they'll  expect  you 
to  say  that,  anyhow.  You're  up  against  it,  old  chap ; 
the  professor  here  evidently  knows  her  and  he  knows 
her  pajamas — relative,  probably." 

By  Jove,  I  felt  a  little  faint ! 


I    RECEIVE    A    SHOCK  169 

"It  will  be  all  over  New  York  to-morrow,"  con 
tinued  Billings  gloomily.  "Your  picture  and  hers 
will  be  in  the  extras." 

Out  of  the  professor's  mutterings  we  caught  a 
random  sentence. 

"Found,  found  again,"  we  heard  him  say.  "Hers 
beyond  peradventure  of  a  doubt.  I  am  not  mis 
taken." 

Billings  rose,  and  his  beckoning  ringer  summoned 
me  to  a  corner  of  the  room. 

"This  is  going  to  cost  you  a  pot  of  money,  Dicky," 
he  said  with  a  serious  air,  "to  say  nothing  of  the 
scandal.  My  advice  is,  try  buying  him  off — best 
thing  in  the  long  run.  I'll  feel  him  for  you." 

Nodding  solemnly  to  me  he  cleared  his  voice. 
"H'm!  I  say,  Professor." 

The  professor,  with  his  eye  glued  to  the  lens  and 
the  lens  to  the  silk,  turned  slowly  about. 

"H'm!"  began  Billings.  "The — h'm — articles  you 
have  there — you  recognize  where  they  are  from — 
eh?" 

"Of  course,"  he  snapped,  without  looking  up. 

"H'm !  And  whose  did  I  understand  you  to  say — 
I — er — did  not  catch  her  name." 

His  glance  uplifted  and  scoured  us  sourly. 

"Si-Ling-Chi.  Did  you  think  I  did  not  know?  I 
recognized  at  sight  her  wonderful  disappearing 
weave."  He  bent  again  with  his  lens.  "Marvelous, 
indeed,  after  all  these  years,"  he  muttered.  "So  long, 
so  long!  Incredible  preservation!" 


1 7o         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

Billings  placed  his  finger  against  his  nose,  rolled 
his  eyes  upward  and  emitted  the  faintest  of  whistles. 
He  caught  my  arm  sharply. 

"Say,  how  old  are  you,  Dicky?"  he  whispered  ex 
citedly. 

"I — er — twenty-seven,  I  think,  old  chap,"  I  re 
plied  hesitatingly. 

Billings  noiselessly  slapped  his  leg.  His  face 
brightened. 

"Been  of  age  six  years,"  he  calculated  to  himself. 
"By  George,  maybe  you  can  prove  an  alibi!" 

He  coughed  again  at  the  absorbed  figure  stooping 
over  the  table. 

"Ah,  Professor — h'm — how  long  now  would  you 
say  it  might  be  since — well,  she  you  mention — how 
long  a  time  since  she  last  saw — er — what  you  have 
there — eh  ?" 

"How  long?"  repeated  the  professor  absently. 
Then  he  moved,  but  his  hand  only,  and  he  flipped  it, 
don't  you  know,  as  one  does  to  banish  a  fly  or  a 
dashed  mosquito — that  sort  of  thing,  by  Jove ! 

"Can't  you  figure  it  out  yourself?"  he  questioned 
irritably.  "You  remember  chronology  gives  Hwang- 
Si's  reign  as  in  the  twenty-sixth  century  before 
Christ;  and  of  course,  that  of  Si-Ling-Chi,  his  em 
press,  would  be  the  same." 

Billings  subsided  limply  into  a  chair. 

"Great  Thomas  cats !"  he  gasped  weakly. 

"I  think  I  divine  the  astute  purpose  of  your  in 
quiry,"  said  the  professor,  pausing  to  polish  his 


I    RECEIVE   A    SHOCK  171 

glasses  and  favoring  us  with  a  wintry  smile.  "It 
does  not  deceive  me.  You  have  in  mind,  sir,  the  er 
roneous  chronology  that  places  Si-Ling-Chi  thirteen 
centuries  earlier.  Ha!  Is  not  my  suspicion  correct?" 

"Regular  bull's-eye!"  responded  Billings.  "I 
mean,"  he  added  hastily,  "what's  the  use  of  deny 
ing  it?" 

"Twenty-six  centuries  before  the  Christian  era  is 
the  best  we  can  give  Si-Ling-Chi,"  said  the  pro 
fessor,  carefully  affixing  his  glasses  and  falling  once 
more  upon  the  pajamas. 

"By  Jove !"  I  said  dazedly.  "Then  the  lady — er — 
I  mean  the  party — she's  rather  far  back — er — isn't 
she,  don't  you  know?" 

The  professor  answered  abstractedly: 

"Two  thousand  years  before  Confucius;  twenty- 
four  hundred  and  twenty-nine  years  before  the 
building  of  the  Great  Wall,"  he  murmured  mechan 
ically. 

Jove,  but  I  was  relieved!  I  looked  inquiringly  at 
Billings.  He  just  sat  there  kind  of  drooping,  and 
shook  his  head.  "I'm  all  in,"  he  motioned  with  his 
lips ;  and  he  wiped  his  forehead. 

"Ah,  gentlemen!"  exclaimed  the  professor,  com 
ing  back  again,  "what  a  thing  this  little  Chinese 
woman  did  for  civilization  when  she  gave  the  world 
silk  culture  and  invented  the  loom !  No  wonder  the 
Chinese  deified  her  as  a  goddess." 

"Goddess!"  Billings  swallowed  hard.  "And  did 
these — h'm — garments  belong  to  the  lady?" 


172         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

The  professor  frowned  at  him  in  surprise. 
ments  ?" 

"Them,"  said  Billings  in  devilish  questionable 
grammar,  pointing  to  the  table.  "They  are  pajamas, 
you  know." 

"Ha!"  ejaculated  the  professor,  holding  them  up. 
"So  they  are.  You  are  very  observing,  sir,  very. 
Now,  I  had  not  noticed  that  at  all;  I  was  so  inter 
ested  in  the  material  itself — the  wonderful  silk  of 
Si-Ling-Chi,  gentlemen.  Ha!  Indeed  a  rare  privi 
lege!" 

By  Jove !  He  stroked  the  stuff  lightly,  tenderly— 
as  one  likes  to  do  a  little  child's  hair,  don't  you  know. 

"Beautiful,  beautiful  fabric,"  he  sighed  half  to 
himself.  "Only  once  before  have  I  seen  a  piece  of  it 
— but  it  was  enough;  I  could  never,  never  forget." 
Something  like  a  groan  escaped  him. 

Billings  angled  his  head  toward  me  and  tightly 
compressed  one  eye. 

"H'm !  Something  in  the  petticoat  line — eh,  Pro 
fessor  ?" 

The  professor's  face  wrinkled  with  the  most  mat 
ter-of-fact  surprise. 

"Petticoat?"  he  piped  querulously.  "You  are  for 
getting  that  the  petticoat  is  a  vestment  unknown  in 
China." 

"Oh,  in  China!  I  was  thinking  of  Paree," 
chuckled  Billings,  with  a  gay  air  and  another  glance 
at  me.  Then  his  nerve  withered  under  the  profes 
sor's  blank  stare,  and  he  added  hurriedly : 


I    RECEIVE   A    SHOCK  173 

"H'm!  So  it  was  in  China  you  saw  the  other 
piece  of  silk  ?" 

The  professor  sighed  profoundly.  His  reply  came 
dreamily,  regretfully: 

"In  the  Purple  Forbidden  City;  but  I  was  not 
quick  enough." 

"Not  quick  enough?"  Billings'  echo  was  solicit 
ous,  sympathetic. 

"It  was  among  the  palace  treasures,  the  imperial 
properties — things  unhappily  lost  to  the  world  and 
civilization.  Ah,  gentlemen,  I  erred;  I  committed  a 
fatal  mistake;  it  has  been  a  matter  of  deep  mortifi 
cation  to  me  often !"  His  head  wagged  somberly. 

Billings  looked  a  little  embarrassed  and  rubbed 
his  chin.  "H'm!"  he  coughed.  "I  guess  we  all  slip  a 
cog  now  and  then.  I  know  I've  done  things  myself 
I've  been  rather  ash — : 

"I  erred,  gentlemen,"  went  on  the  professor,  "in 
trusting  most  unscientifically  to  the  false  principle 
that  the  hand  is  quicker  than  the  eye.  It  is  not  true, 
for  one  of  the  guards  saw  me  and  my  carelessness 
cost  me  dearly:  I  not  only  lost  the  silk,  but  a  sin 
gularly  beautiful  gold  thread  altar  cloth  and  a 
matchless  amulet  of  yu-chi  fade,  you  know — white 
jade,  at  thai,  gentlemen,  I  assure  you — a  rare  bit  of 
carving  of  the  second  century — real  Khoton  jade, 
too — no  base  fei-tsui.  But,  alas!  I  lost  them,  my 
friends;  they  confiscated  them,  and  no  doubt  they 
are  still  there  in  their  original  places  from  which  I 
had — a — attached  them.  Do  you  wonder  at  my  mor- 


i74         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

tification  ?  And  then  the  sacrifice  of  a  whole  year  of 
planning,  watching,  bribing  and  perfecting  of  pre 
liminary  disguise !  All  fruitless,  fruitless!" 

The*  professor  lifted  and  dropped  his  palms  in 
eloquent  deprecation. 

Billings'  foot  pressed  mine.  "Now,  wouldn't  that 
frost  you?"  he  whispered  under  his  breath.  Aloud 
he  exclaimed  indignantly : 

"Beastly  outrage ;  it  must  have  been  painful." 

The  professor  started  in  the  act  of  lifting  the  paja 
mas  again. 

"Pain?  I  did  not  speak  of  the  physical  conse 
quences.  They  were  too  terrible  to  discuss.  I— 

The  pajamas  dropped  from  his  hands  and  his  eyes 
took  on  that  somewhere-else,  far-off  look,  don't 
you  know. 

"Sort  of  'third  degree'  work,  Professor?"  Bill 
ings  prodded  him. 

The  professor  did  not  reply.  His  long,  slim  fin 
gers  swept  his  forehead  for  an  instant  and  he  looked 
away  again,  his  little  eyes  dilated.  Somehow  it  made 
one  feel  devilish  uncomfortable,  dash  it ! 

Billings  cocked  his  eye  at  me  and  lifted  his  shoul 
ders  in  a  shrug.  Then  he  deliberately  kicked  at  the 
tabouret  and  sent  its  brass  fixture  set  clattering 
noisily  across  the  room. 

The  professor  shivered,  compressed  his  lips  and 
blinked  at  us. 

"Your  pardon,  gentlemen,"  he  observed  in  some 
confusion.  "Some  one  was  asking  me — " 


I    RECEIVE    A    SHOCK  175 

"What  they  did  to  you  when  you  lift — I  mean 
when  you  lost  the — er — loot." 

He  stared,  shivered  again  and  returned  to  the 
pajamas,  muttering  an  almost  inaudible  reply. 

We  caught  a  word  or  two :  "Long  imprisonment 
— much  physical  pain — unspeakable  things — do  not 
like  to  think  of  it — I — " 

His  eyes  closed.  He  folded  his  long,  thin  arms 
shudderingly.  Billings  and  I  sat  very  still.  The  pro 
fessor's  voice  came  as  from  far  away : 

"I  could  tell  you  of  some  experiences  in  China 
and  in  Tibet,"  he  murmured.  "Perhaps  I — some 
other  time — such  horrible  details,  I — " 

He  leaned  heavily  upon  the  table  with  both  hands. 
His  head  dropped  forward  an  instant. 

"No  matter  now,"  he  muttered.  "It  was  long, 
long  ago!" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE    SPELL    OF    THE    PAJAMAS 

EORGE!"  breathed  Billings,  breaking  a  curi- 
ous,  tense  silence. 

The  professor  suddenly  faced  us,  holding  up  the 
pajamas  with  a  gesture  of  inquiry. 

"From  a  friend  of  Mr.  Lightnut's  in  China,"  Bill 
ings  explained. 

Aside,  he  whispered  hurriedly :  "Don't  say  a  word 
about  the  rubies!  You  heard  him — murder,  grandt 
larceny  or  arson — it's  all  one  to  the  old  gazabe! 
Anybody  can  see  that.  He  doesn't  let  little  things 
like  those  stand  in  the  way  of  getting  what  he 
wants!"  He  frowned  warningly. 

"H'm!  In  the  neck,  Professor — I  mean  inside  the 
collar,"  he  said,  approaching  the  table — "there's 
some  kind  of  freak  lettering.  Looks  foolish  to  me." 

The  professor  looked  perplexed. 

"I  mean,  looks  like  it  was  done  by  some  one  who 
was  batty — had  wheels,  you  know;  probably  some 
chink  whose  biscuit  was  drifty,"  floundered  Billings. 
"You  understand !" 

The  professor  didn't.  I  knew  that  jolly  well  by 
the  way  he  cocked  his  head  on  one  side,  standing 
like  a  puzzled  crow,  don't  you  know. 

176 


THE    SPELL   OF   THE    PAJAMAS     177 

"Ha!  I  fear  I  do  not  as  I  should,"  he  said  with 
an  apologetic  cough.  "Perhaps  I  do  not  intelligently 
and  logically  follow  your  deductions  because  your 
premises  are  inscrutable  until  I  have  seen  the  letter 
ing.  Ah!" 

Out  came  glasses  and  lens  again  and  he  bent  over 
the  collar  eagerly. 

"H'm!  The  Hwuy  i,  or  ideographic  characters, 
rather  than  the  ideophonetic!"  He  looked  up  at 
Billings  and  myself  inquiringly.  "Ha!  I  trust  we 
start  together  in  accord  upon  that  conclusion,  eh, 
gentlemen  ?" 

Billings  nodded  emphatically. 

"Surest  thing  you  know,"  he  declared  firmly,  and 
whispered  to  me  triumphantly.  "Didn't  I  tell  him  it 
was  idiotic?" 

The  professor's  lips  moved  rapidly  and  his  visage 
twisted  into  a  horrible  frown. 

"Why,  why — a — what!"  With  mouth  open,  and 
gripping  the  pajamas  tightly,  he  glared  at  us  each 
in  turn. 

"Oh,  impossible!"  he  rasped  harshly,  seizing  the 
lens  and  bending  again.  "Incredible — poof — ab 
surd — tut,  tut,  what  nonsense !" 

The  glass  swept  the  lines  rapidly.  Suddenly,  with 
a  cry,  the  professor  dropped  the  lens,  a  violent  start 
almost  lifting  him  from  the  floor. 

"Papauhegopoulos!"  he  cried  explosively,  and 
whirled  on  us  again. 

Dash  me,  if  I  didn't  fall  back  a  step,  his  eyes 


i;8          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

rolled  so  wildly.  But  Billings  stood  his  ground,  by 
Jove! 

"I  didn't  quite  catch — "  he  began  hesitatingly, 
angling  his  bristly  red  head  forward  and  smiling 
pleasantly. 

The  professor  seemed  abashed  of  a  sudden. 

"H'm !  Your  pardon,  gentlemen !  Merely  an  ex 
pletive — h'm — a  Greek  word  I  indulge  in  sometimes 
when — when  excited;  a  weakness,  I  might  say. 
H'm!"  He  seized  his  lens  again. 

Billings'  eyes  yielded  admiration. 

"Great  Scott,  Dicky!"  he  whispered  in  my  ear. 
"See  what  a  thing  education  is!  Think  of  being 
able  to  swear  in  Greek — in  Greek,  Dicky !"  Billings' 
voice  expressed  awe.  "Why,  he's  got  an  Erie  Canal 
skipper  backed  clear  off  the  board,  and  if  he  wanted 
to  turn  loose,  I'll  bet  he  could  make  a  certain  rail 
way  president  I  know  look  like  a  two-spot !" 

At  this  point  the  professor  struck  his  fist  angrily 
upon  the  pajamas.  The  face  that  he  turned  was 
unnaturally  flushed  and  his  chin  quivered  excitedly. 

"Ridiculous,  I  say !  Poof !"  He  snapped  his 
fingers.  "Necromancy  and  thaumaturgy  trans 
mitted  in  pajamas!  Absurd!" 

"PifHe!"  said  Billings  emphatically.  "Don't 
know  what  they  are,"  he  whispered  to  me,  "but  I'll 
take  a  hund red-to-one  shot  on  anything  he  says. 
The  professor's  a  corker !" 

"By  Jove!"  I  remarked.  "Perhaps  Professor 
Huckleberry  won't  mind  telling  us — 


THE    SPELL    OF    THE    PAJAMAS     179 

"What  I  think,  gentlemen?  What  could  I  think 
but  what  I  am  sure  is  your  own  conclusion — though 
you  have  generously  and  considerately  left  me  to 
form  my  own  opinion — namely,  that  the  claim  of 
supernatural  attributes  of  these  garments  is  pre 
posterous.  Enchanted  pajamas !  Haunted  pa 
jamas!  Poof!  Nursery  lore;  children's  fairy  tales! 
Ghosts,  gentlemen?  Tut,  tut — nonsense!" 

He  snorted  indignantly. 

"Ghosts !"  faltered  Billings. 

"Oh,  I  say !"  I  rather  gasped.  Dash  me  if  it 
didn't  give  me  a  turn,  rather ! 

The  professor  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"What  other  interpretation  is  admissible,  gentle 
men?"  he  questioned  somewhat  peevishly,  taking 
up  the  crvit.  "Here  we  have  the  royal  insignia  of 
the  cruel  emperor,  Kee,  and  we  note  that  these  gar 
ments  were  given  some  one  in  his  court  by  the  al 
leged  soiT.erer,  Fuh-keen.  Perhaps  it  was  revenge — 
perhaps  some  court  plot  in  which  Fuh-keen,  for  rea 
sons  of  h?.s  own,  was  an  active  participant ;  it  is  of 
no  importance,  that  part  of  it.  So  much  for  the 
first  line  ;  but  now  we  come — ' 

He  paused  to  polish  his  spectacles. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said  more  cheerfully,  "do  our  free 
translations  of  the  ideographs  so  far  agree  in  essen 
tials—eh?" 

"Like  as  two  peas !"  Billings  declared  with  mani 
fest  enthusiasm. 

The  professor  looked  gratified  and  bowed. 


i8o         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Of  course,  the  rendition  is  entirely  a  free  one," 
he  remarked.  "You  must  not  expect  too  much." 

"Devilish  handsome  and  clever  of  him !"  I  whis 
pered  to  Billings,  as  the  professor  proceeded  to  ad 
just  his  spectacles.  "Dash  it,  I  wish  he'd  let  me  pay 
him,  though." 

"Forget  it !"  hissed  Billings.  "Didn't  he  just  say 
it  was  free?  He's  no  cheap  skate,  I  tell  you." 

The  professor  resumed : 

"Now  we  come  to  the  second  line,  or,  more 
strictly  speaking,  column,"  he  said,  straightening 
impressively.  "Here  we  find  the  astonishing  claim 
made  that  there  will  be  a  change  or  metamorphosis 
of  any  kind  of  animal  life  that  these  habiliments  en 
shroud.  Urn!" 

The  great  man  breathed  heavily  and  batted  at  us 
over  his  glasses. 

"Credat  Jud&us  apella — eh,  gentlemen?"  And  he 
winked  knowingly.  Dashed  if  he  didn't  almost 
catch  me  swallowing  a  yawn,  too!  For  I  hadn't 
any  idea  what  he  was  talking  about  or  driving  at, 
and,  by  Jove,  I  did  know  I  was  getting  devilish 
sleepy. 

'The  professor  waved  his  glasses.  "Did  you  ever- 
read  such  a  childish,  ridiculous,  extravagant  as 
severation  ?"  he  demanded. 

"Ass — eh  ?  I  should  say  so !"  I  worked  this  off 
indignantly. 

"Tommyrot!"  murmured  Billings  absently.  He 
seemed  thoughtful. 


THE    SPELL    OF    THE    PAJAMAS     181 

I  was  thoughtful,  too — wondering,  by  Jove, 
whether  the  professor  would  go  soon,  so  we  could 
turn  in  and  get  the  earlier  start  to-morrow  up  the 
river.  But  chiefly  I  was  wondering  wistfully  if 
Frances  would  still  be  angry  with  me. 

"Moreover,"  broke  in  the  professor's  voice  as  he 
turned  again  to  the  lettering,  "to  assert  further  that 
there  will  be  a  semblance — not  actual,  gentlemen, 
•mind  you,  but  an  optical  illusion — taking  the  form 
of  some  creature  of  the  same  kind  that  this  silken 
tenement  has  previously  inclosed. 

"In  other  words,  gentlemen,  if  I  were  to  don  these 
garments,  I  might  no  longer  look  like  myself,  but 
J.ike  some  one  else  who  had  worn  them  upon  some 
previous  occasion — perhaps  last  night — perhaps  a 
thousand  years  ago.  Eh  ?  Is  that  what  you  under 
stand?" 

He  ducked  again  over  the  letters  and  came  up, 
looking  chagrined. 

"Moreover,  I  am  forced  to  confess,  gentlemen, 
that  I  fail  to  find  a  system — any  rule  governing 
these  ridiculous  transformations.  The  hypothesis  is, 
therefore,  that  the  alleged  materializations  merely 
follow  the  arbitrary  caprice  of  the  magic."  He 
shook  his  head.  "Well,  gentlemen,  I — really,  I  must 
.laugh !" 

And  he  did!  I  hadn't  caught  the  drift  of  what 
it  was  he  thought  he  was  laughing  at — I  got  the 
words,  but  I  was  too  dashed  sleepy  to  get  the  sense. 
But  I  was  awfully  glad  I  understood  this  much — 


THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

that  what  he  was  attempting  now  was  a  laugh.  I 
never  would  have  known  it.  It  was  more  like  a 
shrieking  squeak — rusty  hinge,  you  know,  that  sort 
of  thing. 

"First-time-I've-laughed-in-twenty-years !"  His 
shrill  cackle  ran  a  treble  scale  that  ended  in  high  C. 
"I  know  you — you  won't  believe  it!" 

"Believe  it?"  said  Billings  drily,  "I'd  bet  a  purse 
on  it."  He  whispered  to  me :  "Don't  need  any  af 
fidavit  ;  it  shows.  Sounds  like  a  country  wagon  on 
a  down  grade,  brake  on,  and  shrieking  like  a  ban 
shee." 

Behind  me  the  door  opened  slightly.  I  turned  to 
see  Jenkins,  looking  devilish  chalky  and  a  little 
wild-eyed.  He  lifted  a  coil  of  stout  sash  cord  ques- 
tioningly, 

"Eh?  Why,  no!"  I  whispered  through  the  open 
ing.  "He's  just  laughing.  Don't  be  a  jolly  ass!" 
And  I  closed  the  door  sharply. 

The  professor  looked  up  from  the  pajamas,  and 
folding  his  arms,  eyed  Billings  with  a  cunning  leer. 

"I  think  I  see,"  he  said,  leveling  his  finger.  "You 
have  both  demonstrated  how  nonsensical  is  the  as 
sertion  in  this  inscription.  Doubtless  you  desire  an 
experiment  upon  my  part  to  confirm  your  proof  of 
its  absurdity.  Reductio  ad  absurdum — eh,  gentle 
men?" 

Billings  looked  at  me,  but  I  couldn't  help  him. 
Why,  dash  it,  I  didn't  even  know  yet  what  the  in 
scription  was.  And,  by  Jove,  I  didn't  know  what 


THE    SPELL    OF    THE    PAJAMAS     183 

experiments  he  wanted  to  try  with  the  pajamas,  but 
I  didn't  care.  He  could  boil  them,  if  he  wanted  to, 
if  he  would  only  let  us  get  to  bed. 

So  at  random  I  just  nodded  eagerly. 

"Excellent!"  The  professor's  chuckle  sounded 
like  dice  rattling  in  a  metal  box.  "An  excellent  jest 
upon  this  fellow,  Fuh-keen,  to  furnish  a  demonstra 
tion  by  twentieth-century  scientists  of  the  presump 
tion  of  his  claims  of  necromancy  and  thaumaturgy. 
You  have  done  so — now  I  will  do  so,  in  turn.  Eh, 
gentlemen  ?" 

I  hadn't  the  ghost  of  an  idea  what  he  was  talking 
about.  Fact  is,  I  was  thinking  of  my  darling  and 
wondering  if  she  was  asleep.  By  Jove,  I  wished 
that  7  was ! 

But  a  devilish  queer  look  had  come  into  Billings' 
face.  He  nodded,  gathered  the  pajamas  into  the 
professor's  arms  and  patted  him  on  the  shoulder  in 
a  way  I  thought  offensively  familiar. 

"You've  got  it,  Professor!"  he  said,  grinning. 

Then  he  whispered  to  me  aside : 

"Not  a  word,  Dicky — great  Scott!"  But  he 
needn't  have  said  that,  even  if  I  had  been  mind- 
reader  enough  to  guess  what  word  he  meant.  It  was 
about  all  I  could  do  to  get  out  a  last  word  to  the 
professor  as  he  went  out  the  door: 

"'Night!" 


CHAPTER    XX 

BILLINGS  RAMBLES 

TEN  minutes  later  I  was  almost  wide  awake,  for 
Billings  was  talking  over  long  distance — and  to 
her! 

But  I  did  not  like  the  way  he  did  it. 

"Shut  up,  Francis!"  he  bellowed.  "Now  you 
listen  to  what  I'm  telling  you — and  do  just  as  I  tell 
you  to,  too — if  you  don't,  I'll  mash  your  face  when 
I  come  up  there!  You  hear?" 

And  he  swore  at  her — yes,  by  Jove,  swore! 

"Oh,  here — I  say  now!"  I  remonstrated  indig 
nantly. 

"It's  all  right,  Dicky,"  and  he  waved  his  fat  hand 
indifferently  as  he  hung  up  the  receiver.  "Francis 
wants  to  drive  that  car  down  for  us  in  the  morn 
ing — Francis,  now !"  And  his  hands  went  out  im 
pressively. 

And  dash  it,  I  was  impressed — I  was  delighted. 

"By  Jove!"  I  cried.  "Fine!"  For  I  knew  by 
that  that  she  had  forgiven  me. 

"Fine!"  snorted  Billings.  "You  don't  know 
what  you're  talking  about !  Francis  hasn't  got  sense 
enough  to  get  a  road  engine  ten  feet  without  smash 
ing  it,  much  less  a  car  twenty-five  miles." 

184 


BILLINGS    RAMBLES  185 

"Oh,  look  here !"  I  growled  protestingly,  "I  don't 
like  to  hear  you  talking  about — er — Frances  that 
way." 

Billings  grunted  and  bit  a  cigar  savagely  without 
stopping  to  clip  it.  He  pulled  fiercely  at  it  a  mo 
ment. 

"Kind  of  you,  old  chap,"  he  exclaimed,  "but  you 
don't  know  our  family  as  /  do.  If  Francis  has  got 
a  headache  now,  I  know  that  by  morning — " 

"Headache  ?"  I  cried  in  dismay. 

He  nodded.  "So  I  understood  over  the  'phone — 
been  getting  at  the  governor's  private  stock,  I'd  bet 
all  I've  got."  He  shook  his  head  gloomily.  "No, 
sir ;  that  car  cost  five  thousand,  and  when  you  can't 
trust  people  sober,  how  are  you  going  to  trust  them 
drunk?" 

I  sighed  as  I  remembered  the  half  pint  of  whisky 
she  had  taken — but,  dash  it,  I  didn't  care !  It  some 
how  didn't  seem  to  make  any  difference  in  my  lov 
ing  her.  The  only  thing  important,  really,  in  the 
matter  of  the  car  was  that  she  might  hurt  herself. 
Billings  didn't  seem  to  think  of  that.  And  yet,  by 
Jove,  she  wanted  to  come !  She  must! 

"See  here,"  I  said  coaxingly,  for  Billings  seemed 
to  have  gone  off  in  a  moody,  brown  study,  "you 
must  remember,  old  chap,  your  sister  has  been 
cooped  up  there  in  Radcliffe  for  months.  Why  not 
let  her  have  the  run  down  to  the  city  and  back  ?  It 
will  do  her  good,  you  know." 


i86         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Of  course,"  he  said  absently.  "She's  going  to 
drive  the  car  down." 

"Eh — what  say?"  I  was  sure  I  had  not  heard 
aright. 

"I  say  she's  going  to  bring  the  car  down — my 
chauffeur's  sick,  it  seems." 

I  didn't  wonder  at  that,  but  I  did  wonder  at  his 
sudden  change. 

"Then  you're  not  afraid— 

"Afraid  ?  I  should  say  not !  She  can  drive  better 
than  I  can — better  than  anybody  in  Westchester 
County!" 

"I  see — I  see !"  I  said  in  a  low  voice.  And  I  d id 
see,  poor  fellow !  By  Jove,  my  spirits  sank  to  zero. 

"Yes,  there's  somebody  you  can  always  rely  on !" 
he  enthused  under  his  changing  mood.  "Good  thing 
in  this  blankety  world  there's  somebody  you  can 
rely  on — among  women,  I  mean.  There's  a  girl 
with  a  purpose  in  life — yes,  sir!  Never  dances, 
plays  bridge,  nor  uses  slang — no,  sir!  And  what's 
more,  in  this  cursed  age,  she's  one  woman  who  can 
go  through  life  and  say  she  never  touched  a  cigarette 
or  a  cocktail." 

"Of  course — of  course!"  I  agreed  soothingly. 
By  Jove,  it  was  a  devilish  sight  better  to  have  him 
talk  this  way  about  her.  I  wouldn't  antagonize 
anything  he  might  say  now.  And  I  had  turned  his 
mind  just  by  a  simple  hint — the  power  of  sugges 
tion,  you  know.  Just  as  I  had  myself  forgotten  I 
was  sleepy. 


BILLINGS    RAMBLES  187 

"Of  course,  you  never  have  met  my  sister,  have 
you?"  he  puffed.  "I  mean  the  one  that's  been  up  at 
Radcliffe." 

"Oh,  never!"  I  said  promptly. 

"You  will  in  the  morning,"  said  Billings,  flicking 
his  ash.  "Not  much  to  look  at — I  mean  not  what 
you  would  call  handsome — 

I  interrupted.  "Oh,  but  I  say,"  I  exclaimed  un 
guardedly,  "how  can  you  say  that?  I  think  she's 
just  beautiful." 

"Eh  ?"  He  stared  so  hard  I  was  afraid  I  had  got 
his  mind  off  again.  "Thought  you  said  you  had 
never  met  her." 

"No,  no,  I  never  did,"  I  stammered.  .  "Mistake, 
you  know." 

He  went  on  musingly:  "But  I  understand  that 
her  room-mate — who  has  come  home  with  her,  by 
the  way — is  a  peach.  English  girl,  you  know.  They 
tell  me  Francis  is  crazy  about  her  beauty." 

Dashed  if  I  could  see  how  she  could  be,  for,  by 
Jove,  I  had  seen  her  myself.  It  was  the  frump! 
Peach  ?  She  was  a  fright! 

Here  Billings'  eyes  hung  on  the  ceiling  as  though 
he  would  bore  through  it. 

"Say,  do  you  know" — he  dropped  his  voice,  still 
looking  up — "I  hope  the  old  gazabe  up  there  won't 
get  wise  to  those  rubies.  Awfully  careless  of  us — 
forgot  all  about  them.  By  George,  I've  half  a  mind 
to  go  up  there  and  get  the  pajamas  back." 

"Oh,  dash  it,  no!"  I  protested,  for  I  was  getting 


1 88         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

sleepy  again.  "It's  the  silk  the  old  fellow  was  in 
terested  in;  he  wants  to  examine  it — try  some  ex 
periments — something.  He'll  never  think  of  the 
jolly  rubies,  you  know." 

Billings  looked  at  me  oddly.  "That's  so,"  he 
agreed.  "Still,  I  know  I  won't  sleep,  thinking  about 
those  rubies."  Then  he  looked  up  at  the  ceiling 
again  and  muttered :  "Wonder  if  the  old  boy  will 
have  any  visitors  to-night?" 

I  yawned.  I  knew  it  wasn't  likely — not  with 
him! 

Billings  rose.  "Well,  I'll  get  along  over  to  the 
club,  old  chap.  Now  mind,  the  car  will  call  for 
you  about  nine.  Then  you  are  to  pick  me  up — that 
is,  unless  I  should  come  over  here.  And,  oh,  say, 
Dicky!"  He  turned  back  from  the  door  where  Jen 
kins  waited  with  his  hat  and  cane.  "Speaking  of 
pajamas — er — what  do  you  think  of  black  ones — 
eh?" 

By  Jove,  I  got  red — could  just  feel  it,  you  know ! 

"Ever  see  a  suit  of  black  silk  pajamas  ?"  Billings 
chuckled. 

Now  for  it!  "I — I — never  did,"  I  managed  to 
get  out. 

"Never  heard  of  any  myself  before,"  Billings 
gurgled.  "But  great  idea,  don't  you  think?  Good 
thing,  traveling — Pullmans,  hotels — that  sort  of 
thing — eh?  Just  got  them  to-day — ordered  two 
weeks  ago." 


BILLINGS    RAMBLES  189 

By  Jove,  what  a  relief!  I  felt  myself  breathing 
again. 

"Wish  you  would  stay,"  I  said,  for  I  felt  uneasy 
about  him. 

"Oh,  no,"  carelessly ;  "all  my  traps  are  over  there, 
you  know."  He  smiled.  "To  say  nothing  of  the 
new  pajamas." 

Standing  in  the  door,  he  looked  upward  again, 
twirling  his  cane.  His  head  shook  dubiously. 

"Could  kick  myself  about  those  rubies,"  he  grum 
bled.  "Just  half  a  mind  to  go  up  there—  He 
shrugged.  "Oh,  well,  good  night,  old  chap ;  see  you 
in  the  morning." 

I  murmured  some  reply  as  I  followed  him  with 
out.  Then  I  stood  a  moment  looking  down  the 
shaft  after  he  had  descended. 

"Hope  he'll  be  all  right  in  the  morning,"  I  mused. 
"And  hope  his  infernal  mood  won't  shift  round 
again  as  to  Frances !" 


CHAPTER    XXI 

THE  COLLAPSE  OF  BILLINGS 

"  A  RE  you  sure,  Mr.  Lightnut?" 

-**•  I  stood,  cap  in  hand,  one  foot  on  the  sidewalk 
before  the  Kahoka,  the  other  on  the  running-board 
of  the  car — a  big  double-tonneau  red  whale  sort  of 
affair.  This  was  as  far  as  I  had  been  admitted  to 
the  vehicle. 

For  the  frump  was  sitting  there  behind  the  steer 
ing  wheel,  looking  down  at  me  in  a  nasty,  sidewise 
fashion.  Ever  have  them  do  you  that  way?  Be 
sides,  I  somehow  felt  that  she  had  a  feeling  toward 
me  as  a  man,  an  unvoiced  protest  against  my  exist 
ence  at  all.  It  found  expression  in  her  suspicious, 
sniffy  manner.  Dash  it,  I  just  hated  that  woman 
from  the  start !  I  felt  it  was  bad  enough,  her  Eng 
lish  clumsiness  in  getting  the  introductions  twisted 
as  I  advanced  to  meet  the  car,  but  now  I  was  of 
half  a  mind  that  she  had  done  it  purposely.  Could 
see  with  half  an  eye  that  she  was  determined  to 
make  trouble  about  yesterday. 

"Haven't  we  met  before,  Mr.  Lightnut?"  she  had 
asked. 

But  it  struck  me  that  Frances  glanced  at  me  with 
190 


THE    COLLAPSE    OF    BILLINGS      191 

a  kind  of  wistful  light  in  her  lovely  eyes,  and  I  saw 
that  the  game  was  to  lie  like  a  gentleman — that  sort 
of  thing,  you  know.  And,  by  Jove,  I  was  getting 
kind  of  used  to  it  now,  anyhow — I  mean  since  I 
had  broken  the  ice  last  night.  Not  hard  at  all, 
though,  after  a  few  goes — really! 

So  I  stood  out  that  I  had  never  had  the  pleasure, 
you  know — all  that  sort  of  polite  rot.  And  all  the 
time  felt  like  a  jolly  cad,  too,  meeting  a  girl  with 
that,  when  she  remembered !  But,  by  Jove,  it  was 
worth  sacrificing  the  frump  fifty  times  over  just  to 
see  Frances'  face  brighten  and  note  her  faint  flush 
and  smile  as  she  looked  at  me.  For,  dash  it,  I  knew 
then  I  had  done  the  right  thing ! 

"Um !"  grunted  the  frump,  compressing  her  lips 
and  looking  at  my  darling.  "There's  one  good 
thing:  the  experience  with  Mr.  Smith  will  teach 
Francis  a  lesson !" 

The  cat !   Nice  sort  of  host ! 

But  the  dear  girl  just  laughed — how  I  remem 
bered  that  laugh ! 

"Poor  Francis!"  she  said  lightly.  "Do  you 
know,"  she  added,  "I  believe  I  can  forgive  a  Har 
vard  man  almost  anything,  Mr.  Lightnut." 

By  Jove !  The  angel !  And  before  I  knew  what 
I  was  doing  or  thought  about  the  frump,  I  had 
stretched  out  a  hand  to  her,  looking  her  straight  in 
the  eye  and  smiling.  She  hesitated  an  instant  only, 
then  laughed,  and  I  felt  her  little  fingers  just  brush 
my  palm — but  it  was  enough. 


I92         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

She  flushed  a  little  shyly  and  addressed  the 
frump. 

"Are  we  going  to  keep  Mr.  Lightnut  standing 
like  this  all  day?"  she  asked. 

"Half  on  earth  and  half  in  heaven — like  what's- 
his-name's  coffin,"  I  suggested.  Devilish  good,  that, 
don't  you  think?  She  thought  so,  for  she  opened 
the  door  herself  as  the  frump  turned,  murmuring 
some  silly  thing  about  China  and  the  open  door  to 
America.  What  did  China  have  to  do  with  it  ? 

And  it  was  just  then  that  Jenkins  bolted  wildly 
from  the  building. 

"Mr.  Lightnut — quick,  sir!    Mr.  Billings,  sir!" 

I  thought  of  the  telephone  right  off,  but  he  just 
caught  my  arm.  First  time  ever  knew  Jenkins  to 
take  a  liberty. 

"Come  quick,  sir!"  he  exclaimed.  "He's  up-stairs 
and,  oh,  off  his  nut,  sir — awful!" 

"By  Jove!"  I  gasped.  "Excuse  me — will  see — - 
come  right  back  and  tell  you — I  feared  this  last 
night."  And  I  rushed  to  the  elevator  with  Jenkins. 

"He's  in  them  black  pajamas  he  was  talking 
about,"  said  Jenkins  gloomily,  "and  he's  run  the 
perfesser  off.  Leastwise,  he  ain't  there,  and  his 
man  can't  get  Mr.  Billings  to  go.  He  came  down 
for  me,  but  I  couldn't  do  a  thing  with  him,  either." 

I  knew — I  understood.  It  was  the  dwelling  of 
his  mind  upon  the  rubies!  He  had  gone  back  in 
the  night  for  them — in  his  sleep,  for  all  I  knew. 
But  I  thought  most  likely  awake,  for  recent  ex- 


THE    COLLAPSE   OF    BILLINGS       193 

perience  with  him  showed  me  that  he  didn't  think 
anything  of  wandering  around  the  neighborhood  in 
his  pajamas. 

The  janitor's  pale  face  met  us  at  the  landing. 

"I've  sent  for  the  police,  sir,  and  it  would  be  a 
good  idea,  don't  you  think,  if  you  could  get  him 
away  before  they  come.  I  don't  want  to  get  Mr. 
Billings  into  no  trouble." 

"Good  idea,"  I  agreed.  "We'll  just  rush  him  to 
the  car— but,  h'm!" 

I  suddenly  remembered  he  was  in  pajamas.  It 
might  be  all  right  to  Billings  to  wander  around  in 
public  streets  and  vehicles  in  his  night  things,  but 
it  certainly  wouldn't  do  under  the  present  circum 
stances.  He  might  not  care,  but  then,  there  were 
the  feelings  of  the  girls  to  consider.  And  besides, 
dash  it,  I  had  some  sort  of  idea  it  was  against  the 
law. 

I  stood  there  in  the  corridor,  puzzling. 

"We  must  get  his  clothes,"  I  said  to  Jenkins. 
"No,  wait,  wait — not  time !  I  want  to  get  him  away 
before  the  police  get  here.  Um — dressing-robe — • 
bath-robe — can't  you  get  something  of  that  sort — • 
quick?" 

Jenkins  shook  his  head  distractedly. 

"Thought  of  that,  sir — no  use — nothing  any 
where  around  here  would  half-way  meet  on  Mr. 
Billings." 

Here  the  professor's  man  interposed. 

"Please  hurry,  sir;  he's  going  through  the  pro- 


i94         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

fessor's  papers  and  things !"  I  dashed  for  the  apart 
ment,  shouting  to  Jenkins  to  get  a  bundle  of  rugs 
and  blankets  to  the  car. 

Billings  was  standing  by  the  window  looking  at 
a  glass  thermometer  that  he  had  just  withdrawn 
from  his  mouth. 

"Um!"  he  grunted  complacently.  "Ninety-seven 
and  a  quarter — my  usual  healthy  subnormal  tem 
perature.  Pulse  sixty-five — respiration,  twenty- 
four  and  two-fifths — excellent,  excellent !  I  am 
myself.  Ha!"  And  he  whirled  triumphantly. 

"Ah!"  he  said,  advancing  eagerly  and  rubbing 
his  hands.  "It  is  you!  You  have  heard,  then? 
Marvelous,  isn't  it — wholly  incredible !  But  do  you 
know" — here  he  plucked  at  my  shirt  front,  took  a 
pinch,  as  it  were,  just  as  he  had  seen  the  professor 
do — "I  can  not  find  any  transmigration.  The  ma 
terialization  appears  to  be  wholly  optical." 

"Never  mind,"  I  said  anxiously,  for  I  knew  he 
was  talking  about  the  rubies;  "we  don't  care."  I 
smiled  brightly.  "Let's  go  down  and  see  the  car— 
nice  car!"  And  I  tried  to  get  hold  of  his  fat  side, 
but  missed  it. 

"Car?"  Billings  looked  puzzled.  Then  his  face 
broke  into  a  smile.  "Carpe  diem — eh,  am  I  not 
right?  True,  true!  Whither  you  say."  He  looked 
about  on  a  table.  "Um — my  notes,  now,"  he  mut 
tered  ;  and  he  caught  up  a  small  book  and  a  pencil. 

The  professor's  man  protested :  "Professor 
Doozenberry  don't  like — " 


THE    COLLAPSE    OF    BILLINGS       195 

"Oh,  dash  it,  let  him  have  them!"  I  exclaimed, 
for  Billings  was  already  chuckling  happily  and  writ 
ing  in  the  little  blank  book. 

"Come  on,"  I  pleaded,  catching  a  fold  of  the  pa 
jamas.  "Wouldn't  you  like  to  come  get  some  clothes 
on?" 

He  drew  back  in  alarm.  "No,  no — not  yet — not 
until  I  complete  my  notes,"  was  his  crazy  answer. 
"You  know :  sublata  causa,  tollitur  effectus!"  And 
he  looked  as  though  he  thought  this  would  finish 
me. 

"But  your  friend,"  he  exclaimed  suddenly,  as  he 
allowed  me  to  throw  a  blanket  about  his  shoulders 
and  we  moved  out  of  the  door,  "the  gentleman  I 
met  last  night — Billings — is  not  that  the  name?" 

I  looked  at  him  miserably  as  we  entered  the  car 
to  go  down. 

"Oh,  I  say,  Billings,  old  chap,"  I  protested  ear 
nestly,  "don't  you  know  me?"  I  pointed  to  the 
little  panel  of  mirror  in  the  cage.  "Don't  you  know 
you  are  Billings  ?  Can't  you  see?" 

His  fat  head  pecked  at  the  glass  for  an  instant. 
Then  he  looked  at  me  with  eager,  batting  eyes.  He 
chuckled  hoarsely,  gurglingly,  and  out  came  the 
note-book  and  pencil  from  his  sleeve. 

"Better  and  better,"  he  muttered.  "Now,  if  we 
could  only  go  to  him!"  He  caught  my  arm.  "In 
the  interest  of  this  investigation  of  scientific  phe 
nomena,  would  he  consider  a  call  intrusive — could 
we  not  seek  your  friend,  Mr.  Billings?" 


196         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"It's  all  right,  you  know,"  I  gently  reassured  him. 
"Yes,  we're  going  to  him — going  right  there.  Just 
a  little  ride,  you  know." 

By  Jove,  the  way  he  cackled  made  my  heart  ache ! 
I  whispered  to  Jenkins  to  run  ahead  and  prepare  the 
ladies.  But  the  first  thing  we  saw  as  the  cage  hit 
the  bottom  was  a  woman — and,  dash  it,  the  frump 
from  China ! 

She  gave  a  little  scream  and  fell  on  Billings'  neck, 
almost  bearing  him  to  the  ground. 

"Oh,  Jacky,  Jacky!"  she  sobbed. 

By  Jove,  I  almost  fell  myself!  So  that  was  the 
way  the  wind  lay!  And  I  had  never  even  so  much 
as  suspected.  That  was  why  he  had  raved  so  about 
her  beauty!  Beauty!  Poor  old  Jack!  If  I  had 
been  sad  about  him  before,  it  was  a  devilish  sight 
worse  now — 

Worse?    Why,  dash  it,  she  kissed  him! 

And  to  see  him  standing  there,  kind  of  batting 
and  rolling  his  eyes  and  looking  like  a  girl  does 
when  she's  trying  a  strange  piece  of  candy  out  of 
the  box — oh,  it  just  broke  me  all  up ! 

No  wonder  he  was  crazy !  Why,  dash  it,  he 
would  have  to  be  crazy ! 

He  was  muttering  to  himself. 

"Remarkable !"  I  heard.  "Singularly  sensate  and 
exhilarating!  Now,  I  never  would  have  thought 
-urn!" 

And  then  he  very  deliberately  took  her  head  be 
tween  his  hands  and — kissed  her.  Then  he  looked 


THE    COLLAPSE   OF    BILLINGS      197 

upward  thoughtfully  and  did  it  again — like  a  chicken 
drinks  water — you  know ! 

And  then  while  we — that  is,  Jenkins  and  I — were 
trying  to  urge  him  on,  out  came  the  note-book  again 
and  he  scribbled  rapidly,  muttering  audibly:  "La 
bial  osculation — extraordinary  stimulation — sensa- 
tory  ganglia — mucous  membrane — " 

"Police!"  I  whispered  brutally  in  the  frump's 
ear.  "Better  let's  get  him  away!"  And,  by  Jove, 
that  woke  her  out  of  her  trance!  In  two  minutes 
she  had  cajoled  him  to  the  car  and  we  had  him 
inside  on  the  cushions.  We  bunched  blankets  and 
rugs  about  him  to  hide  the  pajamas. 

"Jacky,  dear,"  gushed  the  Chinese  freak, 
"wouldn't  you  like  for  me  to  sit  by  you  and  hold 
your  poor  hand?" 

It  looked  as  if  he  would. 

The  frump  turned  to  me.  "Can  you  drive  the 
car,  Mr.  Lightnut?" 

Could  I?  Well,  I  would  show  her!  Especially 
as  Frances  had  changed  to  the  front  as  she  saw  us 
bringing  out  Billings. 

"Take  the  train — get  Billings'  things  from  the 
club,"  I  called  to  Jenkins.  "Sharp,  now!  And  here, 
unhook  that  number  there  on  the  back — give  it 
here!" 

Jenkins  hesitated.  "I  think  there's  a  heavy  fine, 
sir,"  he  hinted. 

I  snapped  my  fingers  at  him  and  he  jumped  to 
obey. 


"Worse  things  than  a  jolly  fine,"  I  said,  looking 
at  poor  Billings  smiling  crazily  over  the  frump.  I 
threw  the  number  plate  into  the  car. 

And  just  in  time ! 

Around  the  corner  whirled  a  policeman — and,  by 
Jove,  no  less  than  that  fat  Irishman,  O'Keefe! 
.With  him  was  the  professor's  man. 

"Don't  tell  me,"  panted  the  officer;  "I  know 
my—" 

And  then  he  gave  a  shout  and  sprang  for  the  car. 

"It's  that  fellow  that  was  prowling  around  the 
station  house !"  he  yelled.  "Here,  stop  there !" 

But  I  didn't  want  to.  For  one  thing,  we  were  a 
half -block  away,  and  I  had  badly  coasted  a  towel 
supply  wagon  and  scattered  the  wares  of  a  push 
cart  across  three  sidewalks. 

My  cap  went  flying  as  we  skidded  a  corner,  and 
I  was  devilish  glad,  for  the  inertia  threw  Frances' 
head  almost  against  mine  and  I  felt  the  tickling 
brush  of  a  little  hair  wisp  as  it  swept  my  nose. 

Her  eyes  were  dancing  with  excitement.  She 
looked  back,  waving  her  hand  at  the  figure  of 
O'Keefe  trotting  from  around  the  corner,  and  her 
laughter  pealed  joyously,  deliciously  in  my  ear. 

"Oh,  I  think  American  men  are  great — are  won 
derful!"  she  cried,  striking  her  little  hands  together. 
"Especially  Harvard  men — and  especially — "  She 
stopped  with  the  faintest  catch. 

"By  Jove!"  I  cried.    "Do  you  mean  it?" 

And  for  the  briefest  instant  the  hands  were  three ; 


THE    COLLAPSE    OF    BILLINGS      199 

but  her  scream  brought  me  back  to  earth  just  in 
time  to  save  the  lives  of  a  man  and  a  boy.  Devilish 
ungrateful,  too,  for  I  could  see  the  man,  three  blocks 
behind,  and  still  shaking  his  fist.  The  way  with 
these  pedestrians ! 

At  Fifty-ninth  Street  we  caromed  with  a  hansom 
trotting  too  leisurely  across  the  plaza,  and  I  listened 
for  nearly  a  block  to  the  remarks  of  a  bicycle  cop 
before  he  dropped  behind.  What  dashed  me  not  a 
little  was  Billings'  indifference  to  the  record  I  was 
making  for  his  car — didn't  seem  to  care  a  jolly 
hang. 

The  frump  was  still  hanging  on  him  in  a  way  to 
make  you  sick,  and  cooing  and  going  on  in  a  nerv 
ous,  half -hysterical  way  I  never  would  have  thought 
her  able  to  chirp  up  to.  And  Billings  was  holding 
her  hand ! 

"Hello!"  I  called  to  him,  just  after  we  clipped 
Yonkers. 

He  looked  up  at  me,  smiling  and  nodding. 

"Feel  all  right  now,  old  man?"  I  inquired 
cheerily. 

Billings  looked  at  me  hard,  and  then,  dash  it,  he 
winked!  And  I  began  to  wonder,  by  Jove,  if  it  was 
just  plain  drunk. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

MY  DARLING  IS  SLANDERED 

THREE  miles  south  of  Irvington,  Billings 
jumped  wildly  in  the  air  and  yelled  for  me  to 
stop. 

"A  coleopteran!"  he  shrieked  excitedly  as  I  throt 
tled  down.  "A  coleopteran  struck  me  in  the  eye — 
one  of  the  hydrophilidce  family !" 

And  hurling  aside  rugs  and  blankets,  he  twisted 
open  the  door  and  in  a  moment  was  in  the  road  run 
ning  back.  It  was  then  I  went  back  to  the  crazy 
theory,  for  it  was  an  open  stretch  of  road  and  there 
wasn't  a  soul  in  sight.  But  it  was  so  funny  to  see 
his  fat  figure  waddling  along  there  in  the  pajamas 
and  bedroom  slippers  that  Frances  and  I  just  threw 
back  our  heads  and  screamed.  Couldn't  help  it,  by 
Jove! 

And  the  frump,  jogging  along  behind,  looked  just 
as  funny.  I  wasn't  alarmed,  for  I  knew  she  could 
control  him.  And,  dash  it,  she  did  it  by  humoring 
him !  For  we  saw  her  twist  her  veil  about  the  fork 
of  the  stick  he  extended  to  her,  and  both  of  them 
went  to  slapping  wildly  at  the  air  and  the  ground. 
Presently  they  both  came  waddling  back,  she  with  a 

200 


MY    DARLING    IS    SLANDERED     201 

butterfly  and  he  with  a  bug  which  he  was  craning  at 
with  a  lens  he  had  fished  from  his  sleeve  somewhere. 
He  was  trying  to  do  this  and  at  the  same  time  hold 
together  a  great  armful  of  gaudy  weeds  he  had 
gathered. 

Billings  got  in  and  then  I  helped  her.  "Awfully 
jolly  good  of  you  to  humor  his  crazy  whims,"  I 
whispered  gratefully. 

"Crazy!"  she  ejaculated,  one  foot  on  the  running- 
board.  "Why,  he's  just  getting  sane!  He's  been  a 
born  fool  all  his  life!  And  now,  Jacky,  as  you  were 
saying  of  the  antenna — "  And  she  flopped  eagerly 
by  him  and  together  they  bent  over  the  glass. 

It  was  rum,  but  I  was  getting  along  so  swim 
mingly  with  Frances  that  I  didn't  much  care  what 
they  did.  Seemed  to  be  only  about  a  minute  more 
and  we  were  clipping  through  the  curves  of  the  Wol- 
hurst  park — Frances  pointed  the  way — and  had 
slowed  down  under  the  porte-cochere. 

The  frump  whispered  to  the  man  who  opened  the 
door. 

"As  quietly  as  possible,  Wilkes,"  she  said,  "and 
without  his  father  seeing  him." 

"The  judge  is  away,  miss,"  said  the  man.  "He 
drove  down  to  the  village  with  Senator  Soakem,  who 
had  to  catch  a  train  back  to  Albany;  but  I'm  looking 
for  him  every — " 

"Be  quick,  then,"  jerked  the  frump.  "You  know 
what  to  do." 

"I  guess  I  do,  miss,"  answered  the  butler  gloom- 


202          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

ily.  "I've  had  to  do  it  often  enough — Perkins  and 
me.  A  good  cold  souse — that's  the  thing — and  then 
bed.  /know!" 

Billings  waved  his  hand  to  the  frump  as  he 
mounted  the  stairway  inside.  And  then,  dash  it,  he 
kissed  his  fingers. 

"Vale!"  he  chirped,  leaning  over  the  marble  bal 
ustrade.  "Vale,  sed  spero  non  semper!  I  will  re 
sume  the  discussion  in  propria  persona." 

And,  by  Jove,  if  she  didn't  come  back  at  him 
quick  as  lightning,  and  with  his  own  gibberish,  too : 

"Confido  et  conquiesco!"  she  cooed,  waving  her 
handkerchief. 

Oh,  it  was  tragical,  dash  it — that  was  the  word, 
tragical!  And  yet  the  frump  looked  almost  happy. 
And  as  for  Frances,  except  for  being  amused,  her 
brother's  condition  didn't  seem  to  trouble  her  spirit 
at  all.  But  then,  dash  it,  I  remembered  she  was  used 
to  him  this  way.  She  did  not  even  wait,  but  with  a 
bright  smile  and  a  murmured  word  to  me,  left  her 
friend  and  myself  to  await  Wilkes'  report. 

The  frump  kind  of  glared  down  the  deserted  vista 
of  the  fine  old  hall  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Everybody  loafing,  as  usual,"  she  muttered 
sourly,  and  she  hurled  her  coat  at  the  carven  back 
of  a  great  cathedral  chair — and  missed  it. 

It  was  clear  that  her  type  scorned  conventional 
ities  and  knew  how  to  make  themselves  thoroughly 
at  home. 

"I  hope  you'll  be  made   comfortable  here,   Mr. 


MY    DARLING    IS    SLANDERED     203 

Lightnut,"  she  said,  peeling  a  glove  with  a  jerk,  "but 
I  have  my  doubts." 

And  she  gave  a  kind  of  hollow  laugh. 

I  shifted  distressfully.  "Oh,  really  now,"  I  began 
protestingly,  but  she  marched  right  over  me  : 

"I  can  assure  you  that  a  guest  here  earns  a  mar 
tyr's  crown,"  she  said,  lifting  her  eyebrows.  Then 
she  shook  her  head,  her  lips  compressed. 

I  coughed.  Couldn't  say  the  thing  I  ivanted  to 
say,  you  know — seemed  too  devilish  rude.  Just 
have  to  stand  it  when  they  talk  that  way.  Pugsley 
says  best  thing  to  do  is  to  purse  up  your  lips  and  bob 
your  head — you  don't  have  to  mean  it. 

So  I  just  went  through  all  this  and  threw  in  a 
shrug,  too.  Thought  no  use  having  her  mad  and 
working  against  me  with  Frances.  Catch  the  idea? 
Simple  thing,  you  know,  just  to  play  her  with  my 
finesse. 

"Awfully  tiresome,  these  country  places,"  I  said 
sympathetically.  I  screwed  my  glass  at  a  couple  of 
footmen  who  came  into  view  at  the  far  end  of  the 
hall,  and  who  were  whispering  and  chuckling  about 
something.  "Things  seem  to  be  run  a  bit  loose, 
don't  you  know — that's  a  fact.  Don't  mind  for  my 
self,  but  fancy  a  girl  might  find  it  rather  trying 
visiting  here." 

By  Jove,  how  she  opened  her  eyes  at  me — sur 
prised,  I  knew,  at  finding  me  such  a  devilish  keen 
observer.  My  sympathy  touched  her,  too,  for  her 
eyeballs  shone  moist  of  a  sudden  and  I  saw  her  lip 


204         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

tremble  as  she  stared.  Then  she  swallowed  hard 
and  slapped  her  gloves  sharply  across  her  palm. 

"It's  Francis  that's  to  blame  for  that  sort  of 
thing,"  she  rasped,  nodding  down  the  hall. 

"Frances?"  I  ejaculated  in  protest.  "Oh,  here,  I 
say,  now — " 

"You  don't  know  Francis,  Mr.  Lightnut!"  Her 
jaw  grounded  with  a  snap,  and  what  a  look  she  gave 
me!  "Wait  till  you  do — you  just  wait!"  And 
eyes  and  hands  lifted  to  the  ceiling. 

I  coughed  again. 

The  cat !    And  this  was  my  darling's  friend ! 

But  her  claws  raked  on :  "I  tell  you  you  just  can't 
be  familiar  with  grooms  and  hail-fellow-well-met 
with  footmen  without  demoralizing  them — and 
that's  what  Francis  does."  She  jerked  this  out 
viciously,  and  while  I  gasped,  went  on :  "You  know 
very  well,  Mr.  Lightnut,  if  you  play  cards  and  drink 
and  carouse  with  your  men-servants  until  two  or 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  you  can't  reasonably 
look  for  respect  from  them."  She  breathed  heavily. 
"The  trouble  is,  Francis  has  no  self-respect — no 
pride!" 

Her  uplifted  hands  fumbled  and  jerked  the  hat 
from  her  tossing  head.  "Sometimes,"  she  breathed 
through  her  teeth,  "when  I  think  of  Francis,  I  feel 
like  I'd  like  to — "  The  words  died  behind  her  teeth 
as  she  ground  them — yes,  ground  them.  She  jabbed 
the  pins  into  the  hat  savagely  and  at  random  and 
tossed  it  after  the  coat.  And  this  time  she  put  the 


MY    DARLING    IS    SLANDERED     205 

ball — in  a  big  Benares  jar  that  stood  against  the 
wall. 

But  I  was  counting  forty- four! 

Ever  try  that  when  you  were  angry  and  wanted  to 
insult  somebody  ?  Preacher  told  us  about  it  once  at 
the  old  Harvard  Union,  and  /  thought  it  devilish 
good  idea.  Gives  you  time,  you  know,  to  think  up 
the  things  to  say  that  otherwise  you  would  be  turn 
ing  over  in  your  mind  afterward  as  the  scathing, 
clever  things  you  might  have  said. 

So,  by  the  twenty-eighth  count,  I  had  her;  and 
jamming  my  hands  almost  through  my  pockets,  I 
faced  her  with  a  withering  frown 

"By  Jove,  if  I  were  you,  Miss — er — "  Dash  me 
if  I  hadn't  forgotten  her  name!  "If  you  feel  that 
way,  /  don't  see  why  the  de —  H'm!  I  mean  why 
do  you  stay  on  here  and — er — sacrifice  yourself?" 
I  drawled  this  in  the  most  devilish  sarcastic  way! 
"I'd  pack  my  jolly  trunk  and  get  as  far  away  as  I 
could." 

I  added  earnestly — coaxingly:  "And  stay  away, 
you  know!" 

And  I  took  a  deep  breath,  for  I  expected  to  see  her 
wilt  or  go  straight  up  in  the  air.  I  knew  it  was  a 
toss-up  for  either. 

Not  she !    She  just  twisted  a  sour  smile  at  me. 

"Ummh !"  she  grunted.  "Perhaps  you  don't  know 
that  Francis  has  suggested  that  to  me  several  times 
• — frankly  and  rudely — when  I  have  complained. 
That  may  surprise  you." 


206         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

It  did  not  surprise  me — not  at  all,  by  Jove !  What 
did  surprise  me  was  that  my  Frances  had  ever  al 
lowed  this  jolly  female  barnacle  to  fasten  on  her  in 
this  way.  Remembered  a  remark  of  Jack  Ells 
worth's  about  some  bounder  visiting  at  his  house 
that  he  said  "the  old  man  couldn't  pry  loose  with  a 
crowbar."  Devilish  coarse  way  to  express  it,  I  had 
thought ;  but  now  I  understood. 

The  frump  was  this  sort!  Poor  Frances!  Poor 
Frances ! 

I  was  just  considering  the  advisability  of  tactfully 
trying  to  shame  this  girl  into  taking  the  next  train, 
or  whatever  it  is,  back  to  China,  when  suddenly  my 
devilish  active  mind  hit  right  on  the  explanation  of 
her  conduct!  Bores  me,  you  know,  the  way  things 
come  to  me  at  times  when  I  am  not  looking  for 
them  at  all.  Still,  this  time,  I  was  rather  glad. 
Might  confound  her  and  put  her  on  the  run  if  she 
knew  that  a  shrewd,  eagle-eyed  man  of  the  world 
had  penetrated  her  mask. 

So  I  coughed  significantly  in  lieu  of  using  her 
dashed  name,  and  lifted  my  monocle  so  I  could  bore 
her  sidewise  through  narrowed  eyes. 

"Dare  say  you've  put  up  with  Frances  though  for 
Jack's  sake!"  I  let  her  have  it  coldly,  deliberately. 
"Brother  Jack  has  been  a  sort  of  compensation — 
that' sit,  eh?" 

And  I  shot  her  a  foxy  wink ! 

That  is,  I  almost  did — pulled  up,  though,  just  on 
the  brink.  By  Jove,  gave  me  cold  marrows  for  an 


MY    DARLING    IS    SLANDERED     207 

instant,  thinking  how  I  might  have  compromised 
myself,  you  know.  Besides,  I  could  spare  her  that 
— had  rubbed  it  in  so  devilish  raw,  anyhow.  That 
is,  you  would  have  thought  so ;  for  that  sort  of  thing 
said  to  a  normal  Yankee  girl  would  have  stirred  her 
pride  or  unchained  the  jolly  lightnings  from  her 
eyes — you  know ! 

But  dashed  if  this  imported  freak  didn't  suddenly 
nod  with  a  sort  of  chokey  snuffle  and  reach  out  her 
hand  for  mine. 

"How  you  do  understand!''  she  crooned  unblush- 
ingly,  and  she  leaked  a  big  cold  tear  down  upon 
my  hand  and  let  another  splash  my  cuff — and  Jen 
kins  hadn't  come  with  my  things  yet,  dash  it!  "I 
do  try  to  be  patient  about  Francis  for  Jacky's  sake- 
he  asked  me  to ;  and  I  do  try  not  to  mind  the  way 
things  are  run,  but  oh,  Mr.  Lightnut,  what  this  place 
needs  is  a  head!"  She  almost  squeezed  my  hand, 
and  blinked  damply  at  me  out  of  her  pasty  face. 
"And  then,"  she  snuffled,  "I  do  so  want  to  make  a 
home  for  my  father  and  my  brothers.  They  have 
never  known  what  it  was  to  have  a  home — think  of 
it!" 

I  didn't  want  to  think  of  it — besides,  I  didn't  be 
lieve  it.  I  knew  people  have  to  have  homes,  dash  it 
—it's  the  law.  If  they  go  in  for  that  sort  of  thing- 
— not  having  homes,  you  know — they're  arrested. 
Still,  in  a  rum  country  like  China,  it  might  be  differ 
ent,  of  course.  However,  I  didn't  take  time  to  give 
this  much  thought,  for  I  was  so  devilish  floored — 


208         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

irritated,  you  know — at  the  girl's  cold-blooded, 
brazen  effrontery. 

By  Jove,  I  wondered  if  I  could  pink  her! 

I  wasn't  sure.  I  had  gone  at  her  in  a  cunning, 
subtle  way :  the  hand  of  steel  in  the  glove  of  what's- 
its-name,  you  know;  the  curving,  velvet  thrust  of 
the  needle  rapier — all  that  sort  of  rot — and  she  had 
merely  given  me  back  a  Roland  for  my  what's-its- 
name.  I  felt  a  bit  dashed,  you  know. 

Idea  seized  me  that  perhaps,  though,  something 
more  brutally  direct  would — 

"See  here,"  I  said,  fixing  my  monocle  sternly  and 
folding  my  arms — for  I  had  got  back  my  hand  under 
pretense  of  fixing  my  part.  "You  don't  mean  to  say 
that  Jack  would  ever  ask  you  to  take  charge  here!" 

Rather  plain  and  direct,  that,  don't  you  think? 
Sort  of  heavy  broadsword  stroke,  you  know.  But 
she  took  it  full  and  clean — never  winced  or  turned  a 
hair.  Just  looked  thoughtful. 

"Yes,"  she  said  slowly.  "Jacky  says  it'll  have  to 
come  to  that  some  day — some  arrangement.  Neither 
of  us  ever  want  to  marry." 

"Oh!" 

And  my  monocle  dropped ! 

Couldn't  chirp,  another  word,  you  know!  Just 
stood  there,  round-mouthed  and  staring  blankly — 
kind  of  fascinated,  too,  dash  it — and  wondering 
what  particular  freak  cult  hers  was.  And  I  felt 
myself  getting  redder  and  redder  every  second! 
Then  the  awful  thought  came  to  me  that  this  ad- 


MY    DARLING    IS    SLANDERED      209 

vanced  and  emancipated  dowd  had  been  the  friend 
and  companion  of  my  darling — that  her  poisonous 
influence  had  been  felt  for  months;  was  being  ex 
erted  still.  I  wondered  how  she  could  look  me  in 
the  face,  but  she  wasn't.  No,  she  had  switched  her 
head  around  and  was  glaring  at  the  servants  down 
the  hall.  So  I  just  swayed  there,  trying  to  think, 
and  boring  at  the  back  of  her  head,  till  it  came  to  me 
dully  that  her  hair  didn't  match  her  what-you-call- 
'ems,  and  my  dashed  brain  just  seized  on  and  clung 
to  this  like  a  drowning  man  does  to  a  what-you-may- 
call-it. 

"Thom-asl"  the  frump  exploded. 

One  of  the  footmen  who  was  doubled  over,  red- 
faced  and  writhing,  in  the  exercise  of  some  pleas 
antry  with  his  companion,  straightened  with  an  ag 
grieved  air.  He  ambled  toward  us. 

"Some  specimens  that  Mr.  Billings  gathered — 
plants  and  foliage;  he  left  them  in  the  car,"  jerked 
the  frump.  "See  they  are  cared  for." 

The  man  nodded  indifferently  and  slouched  away. 

Her  frown  gloomed  after  him  and '  her  voice 
; snapped  at  his  laggard  heels: 

"And  Flora — send  Flora  to  me.  Is  she  asleep 
somewhere  ?" 

She  faced  me  with  an  acid  grimace  and  shrug. 

"You  see  how  it  is  here,  Mr.  Lightnut,"  she 
grumbled  querulously ;  "but  you  understand !" 

Understand!  By  Jove,  yes — I  thought  I  did!  I 
could  see  that  the  fellow  was  just  sullen  under  the 


210          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

too  free  and  easy  assumptions  of  a  guest  from  whom 
little  had  been  experienced  in  the  way  of  an  occa 
sional  douceur.  And  dashed  if  I  blamed  him! 

But  I  murmured  some  jolly  rubbish,  hoping  every 
instant  that  Wilkes  would  come  and  lead-  me  away. 

"That's  the  way  with  them  all  here,  from  the 
housekeeper  down,"  she  went  on  gloomily.  "They 
take  advantage  of  the  fact  that  the  mistress  of  the 
house  is  abroad  and  the  master  absorbed  and  busy.'' 
Her  voice  quickened  sharply :  "Then  do  you  think 
they  care  two  pins  about  the  authority  of  a  silly  girl 
who  has  been  allowed  to  grow  up  untrained  and 
ignorant  of  the  first  a  b  c  of  anything  practical?" 

I  felt  my  face  tingling. 

"See  here— Oh,  dash  it  all !"  I  protested.  "That's 
not  fair,  you  know !" 

"Fair?"  She  bit  the  word  out  of  the  air  and  just 
glared  at  me.  "Why,  they  know  she's  a  fool!" 

I  opened  my  mouth  two  or  three  times ;  then  swal 
lowed  helplessly  and  grew  red.  Somehow,  it  came 
back  to  me — a  time  when  I  was  a  little  boy  and  my 
nurse  had  been  so  shocked  when  I  said  "shucks!" 
I  remembered  how  that  night  she  read  to  me  a  tract 
about  swear  words  and  told  me  how  when  I  grew  up 
to  be  a  big  man,  I  would  have  to  choose  whether  I 
was  ever  going  to  learn  to  swear  or  not.  She  said 
that  if  I  didn't  choose  right,  a  day  would  come  when 
I  would  be — oh,  so  sorry ! 

And  now,  dash  it,  the  day  had  come  and  I  knew 
that  she  was  right !  For  I  was  sorry,  by  Jove ! 


"IT'S  all  right,  miss,"  Wilkes  reported;  "at  least, 
•*•    I  hope  so.     Perkins  is  with  him — we've  been 
trying  to  persuade  him  to  have  a  bath  and  lie  down. 
But  I  don't  know — " 

He  shook  his  head  gloomily,  then  turned  to  me. 

"If  you  will  :ome  with  me,  sir — "  Then  he 
added,  and  it  seemed  :  question:  "You  must  have 
made  a  quick  run  sir.  Seems  like  only  a  few  min 
utes  since  we  gOc  Mr.  Jack's  'phone  message."  His 
voice  dropped :  "From  the  station  house,  you  know." 

"Eh — what  s  that?"  I  paused  with  my  foot  on  the 
first  tread  of  the  stairway.  "Jack's  'phone  message 
— from  the  station  house?"  I  repeated  blankly. 
"What  are  you  talking  about?" 

Wilkes  coughed  reproachfully.  "Why,  you  know, 
sir,  he  told  about  being  arrested  in  front  of  the 
Kahoka  Apartments.  He  mentioned  that  it  was 
about — h'm!"  He  stole  a  furtive  backward  glance 
at  the  frump,  but  she  was  enjoying  herself  berating 
a  fat  girl  she  addressed  as  "Flora."  He  looked  at 
me  eloquently  and  whispered:  "About  his — h'm — 
stealing  some  black  silk  pajamas." 

211 


212          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

My  monocle  dropped,  and  I  almost  did  myself. 

"By  Jove !"  I  gasped  feebly. 

"Yes,  sir."  Wilkes  looked  up  at  the  paneled  ceil 
ing  and  stroked  his  chin.  "He  mentioned  that  they 
found  them — or  thought  they  found  them  in  the  bag 
he  had  with  him." 

"But  he's  got  them  on,  and  they  are  his  own,"  I 
managed  to  get  out. 

Wilkes'  face  lightened  understandingly.  "Oh-h,  I 
see,  sir,"  he  said,  nodding  with  his  jolly  chin  hang 
ing;  "so  that's  how  you  got  him  off — I  was  a-won- 
dering!"  He  looked  at  me,  his  fishy  old  eyes  twin 
kling  admiration.  "Very  neat,  if  I  may  say,  sir — 
making,  as  it  were,  a  sort  of  alibi — very  neat,  in 
deed  !  Of  course,  when  they  puts  'em  on  him,  they 
see  for  themselves  they  are  his'n,  and  not  any  lady's 
what  had  been  stolen —  Oh,  /  see!" 

Dash  me,  if  7  did !  The  only  thing  I  saw  was  that 
it  must  have  been  Jenkins  that  had  telephoned  and 
the  message  had  been  twisted.  What  he  had  said,  of 
course,  was  that  Billings  had  almost  been  arrested. 
But  the  police  finding  the  pajamas  in  his  bag — I  did 
not  like  that.  Could  it  be  that,  after  all,  Billings 
had  found  his  sister's  pajamas  in  the  guest-room  and 
had  quietly  confiscated  them?  It  looked  devilishly, 
ominously  like  it!  Or  perhaps  he,  himself,  had  re 
covered  them  from  Foxy  Grandpa,  and  with  more 
delicacy  than  I  thought  him  capable  of,  had  kept  the 
whole  matter  to  himself.  One  thing  only  was  cer 
tain  :  the  sleuth  hounds  of  the  law,  stimulated  by  the 


A    MESSAGE    AND    A    WARNING     213 

extravagant  reward  I  had  offered  over  the  telephone, 
had  run  down  and  recovered  her  pajamas.  It  was  a 
relief  that  they  were  out  of  his  hands,  anyhow — 
/  could  get  them  again,  but  he  couldn't.  By  Jove ! 

Alone  in  my  room,  I  stood  before  the  mirror, 
hands  in  pockets  and  rocking  on  my  toes — kind  of 
smiling,  you  know — and  thinking  what  a  daredevil, 
reckless  thing  it  had  been — clever,  too,  dash  it — in 
getting  them  away  from  old  Jack,  and  right  under 
his  nose.  By  Jove,  I  felt  a  bit  proud  about  it — sort 
of  exultation,  don't  you  know — and  I  had  just  got 
off  a  wink  at  myself,  when  Wilkes  appeared  again. 

"Pardon,  sir,  for  disturbing  you,  but  Mr.  Billings 
is  acting  so  queer,  we  are  afraid  to  cross  him ;  and  he 
just  insisted  I  take  his  message  to  you  at  once." 

"Message?"  I  repeated,  sobering. 

"Yes,  sir — something  about  some  pajamas — " 

"Pajamas?"  I  faltered,  and  I  dropped  into  a  chair. 
"Oh!" 

Wilke?  looked  grave.  "Pajamas  seem  to  be  the 
thing  with  him  this  time,  sir — it's  the  queerest  go! 
That's  a  nezu  one,  that  is!"  He  shifted  contem 
platively.  "The  last  time  it  was  lizards  and  the  time 
before  blue  dachshunds,  but  his  main  stand-by,  so  to 
speak,  is  piebald  rattlesnakes — them  we're  used  to; 
but  this  new  turn,  pajamas,  gets  me !"  He  shook  his 
head  dubiously.  "And  he  won't  take  his  off — you 
can't  get  him  to;  he  just  gets  kinder  peevish  and 
goes  off  on  the  queerest  streak  of  freak  talk  you 
ever  heard.  Perkins  tried  to  coax  him  to  take  a 


2i4         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

bath,  but  he  said  he  never  had  taken  a  bath  in  his  life 
— and  he  called  Perkins  something  awful — some 
name  about  a  yard  long.  It  squelched  Perkins  so 
that  he — " 

"But  the  message?"  I  suggested  nervously. 

"I  was  just  a-coming  to  that,  sir.  He  asks  me  if 
I  knew  whether  you  were  still  on  the  place;  and 
when  I  said  you  were,  he  says  to  me  kinder  excited 
and  impressive  like :  'Well,  you  go  to  him  at  once — 
at  once — and  tell  him  I'm  on  the  trail  of  the  mystery 
of  those  pajamas,  and  I'll  soon  know  as  much  about 
'em  as  he  does.  Just  tell  him  that — he'll  know  what 
I  mean.'  " 

"Oh !"  I  gasped  shortly. 

"Yes,  sir,"  Wilkes  nodded,  "but  that  ain't  quite 
all.  He  says :  Tell  Mr.  Lightnut  that  when  I  first 
saw  those  pajamas  in  his  rooms — ' '  Wilkes  paused 
inquiringly.  "Did  you  say  something,  sir?" 

I  had  not — I  had  only  groaned ! 

He  went  on,  repeating  as  by  rote :  "  'When  I 
found  and  took  them  away,  I  was  curious  and 
amused,  but  skeptical — firmly  skeptical — of  there 
being  any  dark  mystery  about  them.  But  now  I 
know  I  let  myself  be  deceived  and  I  mean  to  get  at 
the  bottom  of  the  whole  thing.' ' 

Wilkes  seemed  to  kind  of  waver  and  fade  before 
me,  and  then  go  out  like  a  candle.     Then  he  came 
back  into  view  and  I  heard  his  voice  again : 
'  'And  what's  more1,  you  tell  him  I  say— 

The  butler  hesitated  and  seemed  embarrassed — • 


A    MESSAGE    AND    A    WARNING     215 

his  heavy  jowls  reddened  a  little.   He  looked  beyond 
me  and  coughed. 

"Of  course  you  know,  sir,"  he  said,  shifting  un 
easily,  "Mr.  Billings  ain't  exactly  himself,  so  to 
speak,  so  you  mustn't  mind.  Fact  is — if  I  may  say 
so — he's  got  the  most  considerable  case  of  jimmies 
I  ever  see  him  with,  so — " 

"Oh,  go  on !"  I  breathed  miserably. 

"Yes,  sir — h'm!"  Wilkes  heaved  distressfully, 
then  drove  doggedly  ahead :  "Oh,  well,  sir,  what  he 
says  was  that  it  was  his  duty,  he  thought,  to  tell  the 
family  the  truth  about  those  pajamas,  so  that  they 
\vould  know  that  the  man  they  were  harboring  under 
their  roof  wasn't  what  he  seemed  to  be."  His  gaze 
bored  higher  over  my  head,  his  voice  tapering  off  so 
faintly  I  could  hardly  hear. 

But  I  heard  all  right !  Oh,  yes,  I  got  the  full  dev 
ilish  force  of  it ;  but  I  couldn't  speak.  My  dry  lips 
touched  wordlessly  and  I  hunched  deep  into  the  hol 
low  of  the  big  leather  rocker.  I  would  have  liked 
to  get  even  deeper,  and  I  studied  wistfully  a  tiny 
floor-crack  under  the  radiator.  I  thought  I  could 
make  it  if  I  were  alone! 

Wilkes  coughed  again.  I  winced — there  was  evi 
dently  more ! 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  murmured,  as  I  cut  a  quick  glance 
upward.  "He  did  say  further  that  if  you  weren't 
satisfied,  though,  and  would  prefer  another  trial— 

"Eh?"  I  bounded  out  of  the  chair.  "What's 
that  ?  Oh,  dash  it,  yes — I  would,  by  Jove !" 


216         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Very  good,  sir."  Wilkes  looked  relieved,  him 
self.  "In  that  case,  he  said  he  was  willing  to  experi 
ment  again — that  was  his  word — experiment.  He 
said  he  wouldn't  detain  you  here  on  his  account,  but 
he  would  have  to  ask  you  to  stay  another  day  or  two 
while  he  made  his  observations." 

It  was  a  devilish  cold  shoulder,  but  I  had  no 
choice.  Fact  was,  by  Jove,  I  was  so  jolly  glad  for 
that  chance,  and  for  being  trusted  again  by  Billings, 
even  in  this  half-hearted  way,  that  I  just  ground  my 
pride  under  my  heel — why,  dash  it,  I  would  have 
ground  anything  under  my  heel  for  her!  I  was  as 
happy  as  a  bird,  and  life  was  again  one  grand,  sweet 
what's-its-name. 

"Tell  him  certainly,  Wilkes,  and  thank  him — don't 
forget  to  thank  him."  And  I  believe  I  wrung  his 
hand.  "And — er — wait,  Wilkes — couldn't  you  use 
a  tenner?"  I  checked  him  on  the  threshold.  "Let's 
see — no,  that's  a  twenty — say,  take  that;  take  them 
both — thank  you,  Wilkes! — and  there's  a  five,  too. 
Oh,  yes,  you  must  take  it  all — I  have  no  use  for  it, 
you  know — never  would  use  those  particular  ones !" 

And,  by  Jove,  he  took  it — just  made  him,  you 
know.  These  butlers  are  not  half  bad  fellows  if  you 
go  at  them  right — I  can  always  manage  them.  He 
sympathized  with  me — you  could  see  that — dashed 
if  the  fellow  wasn't  almost  weeping  as  he  closed  the 
door. 

And  then  I  just  flopped  down  upon  a  divan  and 
lay  there  panting  like  a  what's-its-name — reaction, 


A    MESSAGE    AND    A    WARNING     217 

you  know.  So  he  had  known !  He  had  known  when 
he  let  me  come  to  Wolhurst,  and  had  waited  for  the 
moment  when  he  would  have  me  under  his  roof  and 
be  able  utterly  to  confound  me.  This,  then,  ex 
plained  his  mental  condition,  his  relapse  to  drink 
again — his  madness  on  the  subject  of  pajamas.  It 
was  awful!  By  Jove,  as  I  lay  there  thinking  of  his 
suspicions  and  diseased  imaginings  induced  by  his 
monstrous  folly  of  drink — the  awful  curse  of  drink 
— and  of  what  it  had  almost  brought  upon  two  inno 
cent  lives,  I  felt  indignant — almost  sick.  Lay  there 
helpless,  wishing  Jenkins  would  come,  and  wonder 
ing  if  I  wasn't  getting  a  bit  feverish — mouth  dry 
and  craving  moisture,  you  know.  But  not  a  thing 
could  I  find  in  the  room  except  a  glass — and  empty. 
Carafe  beside  it,  but  nothing  in  it  but  water,  you 
know,  and  a  large,  round  ball  of  ice.  So  just  had  to 
fall  back  on  the  couch  and  try  not  to  think  of  my 
throbbing,  swollen  tongue. 

Mind  got  to  wandering  then,  I  think.  Thought  of 
Frances  and  how  much  I  loved  her,  and  of  cooling 
streams — fizzy  and  gurgling — and  of  amber  foun 
tains,  crested  with  sparkling,  pearly  sunbursts — you 
know !  I  even  got  to  wondering  if  she  really  loved 
me — fact!  And  then  came  the  disquieting  thought 
of  how  devilish  disappointing  and  awful  it  would  be 
if  Jenkins  should  forget  a  stock  of  my  Egyptian 
Koroskos.  What  was  it  she  had  told  me  that  night 
about  being  engaged  to  another  and  wanting  to  be 
free,  now  that  she  had  met  me — the  darling !  Then, 


218         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

dash  me  if  I  could  remember  to  save  me  whether 
Jenkins  had  or  had  not  said  something  to  me  that 
morning  about  packing  my  ashes-of-roses  socks  and 
ties — or  was  it  about  my  lilac  silk  underwear  with 
the  mauve  fleur-de-lis  ?  Devilish  annoying  I  couldn't 
remember.  Of  course  it  was  this  that  was  making 
her  so  reticent  and  offish  about  any  reference  to  the 
other  night — I  mean  it  was  this  thing  of  being  en 
tangled  with  this  other  chap.  So  jolly  sensitive  and 
high-minded,  don't  you  know,  she  didn't  want  to 
talk  about  our  future  until  she  had  dumped  the  other 
fellow  in  the  road — that  was  it. 

Struck  me  suddenly  that  there  was  some  jolly 
proverb  thing  about  it :  something  about  the  old  love 
and  the  new — some  dashed  wise,  old,  musty  rot 
about  that.  What  the  deuce  was  it? 

And  luckily,  just  then  Jenkins  came! 

And  when  he  had  laid  out  my  things,  and  I  found 
I  was  to  wear  a  scarf  of  Harvard  crimson — the 
color  she  admired — I  was  so  devilish  pleased  and 
grateful  to  Jenkins  for  the  decision  that  I  thought 
that  now  I  would  let  him  have  a  try  at  the  proverb. 

"I  say,  Jenkins,"  I  began  carelessly,  "there's  some 
jolly  saying  or  proverb — eh,  you  know?" 

"Certainly,  sir,"  responded  Jenkins  absently,  for 
he  was  intensely  concentrated  on  the  selection  of  a 
scarf-pin. 

I  went  on :  "It's  about — oh,  don't  you  know — 
about  when  you've  tried  being  engaged  to  one  person 
and  you  don't  like  it,  and  you  are  thinking  of  being 


A    MESSAGE    AND    A    WARNING     219 

engaged  to  another — something  of  that  sort,  dash  it 
— oh,  you  know!"  And  I  wondered  if  it  would  be 
the  sardonyx  or  the  ruby,  and  hoped  it  would  be  the 
ruby. 

"Mm-m-m,"  murmured  Jenkins,  blinking  thought 
fully.  "Let's  see,  sir — it  ain't  that  one  about  the 
hair  of  the  dog,  is  it?" 

"Hair  of  the —  Certainly  not!"  I  exclaimed  with 
indignation.  "No,  it's  some  jolly  saw  about  being 
off  with  the  old  and  on  with — "  I  stalled. 

"Off  and  on,"  came  quickly  from  Jenkins;  then 
he  went  back  to  his  jolly  pins. 

"Maybe,"  I  said,  trying  to  think,  "but  there's 
something  else  about  being  on  with  the  new — or  be 
ing  on  to  the  new —  Oh,  yes,  the  devilish  thing 
starts  off :  '  Tis  well  to  be  off' — um,  off —  Dash  it,, 
off  what?  You  catch  the  idea,  don't  you  ?" 

"Certainly,  sir."  He  tried  the  ruby  and  sardonyx 
in  turn  against  the  silk  and  rejected  both — he  took  a 
garnet.  It  wouldn't  have  been  my  taste,  but  then  it 
wasn't  my  business,  you  know!  His  jolly  old  lips 
moved  as  he  repeated  something  to  himself ;  he  rolled 
his  eyes  to  the  ceiling  and  cleared  his  throat — and 
then  I  knew  he  had  it ! 

"I  don't  seem  to  remember  it,  sir — not  precisely — 
h'm — but  could  it  be  this :   '  'Tis  well  to  be  off- 
He  paused  with  finger  on  chin,  rolling  his  eyes  up 
ward. 

"Oh,  dash  it,  yes.!"  I  said  disgustedly.  "Why,  / 
told  vou — " 


220         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

He  lifted  his  hand.  "  'Tis  well  to  be  off  and 
on—  And  he  stuck  again,  dash  it !  Then  his  lips 
worked  some  more  and  his  face  cleared.  "Oh,  here 
it  is,  sir — I've  got  it  now!  See  if  this  ain't  it :" 

And  he  laid  it  off  with  his  fingers  the  way  a 
woman  counts  the  words  in  a  telegram  to  keep  from 
going  over  ten : 

"  'Tis-well-to-be-off-and-on-with-the-old-love,  but- 
don't-let-on-to-the-new' — there  you  are,  sir!" 

"By  Jove!"  I  exclaimed,  batting  at  him;  and  the 
brushes  in  my  hands  paused  and  pulled  hard  on  each 
side  of  my  pait.  "Oh,  I  say!"  And  I  had  him  re 
peat  it  again. 

The  thing  troubled  me!  Odd  I  had  not  more 
carefully  noticed  before  the  wording  of  the  jolly 
thing!  But  then  of  course  my  interest  in  it  had  not 
been  so  dashed  personal  as  now.  Kept  running  in 
my  head  now  and  disturbing  me  all  the  while  Jen 
kins  was  busying  himself  about  me.  And  then,  as  if 
I  didn't  have  quite  enough  already  to  try  me,  Jenkins 
at  the  last  moment  chucked  the  crimson  scarf  alto 
gether,  and  slipped  through  my  collar  a  Persian  bat ! 
By  Jove,  I  was  so  dashed  annoyed,  I  took  it  from 
him  to  tie  myself. 

"Off  and  on  with  the  old  love !"  It  kept  whisper 
ing  itself  in  my  ear  till  I  hardly  knew  what  I  was 
doing.  Could  it  be  that  she  would — but,  oh,  dash  it, 
no!  I  knew  she  wouldn't!  And  yet  another  chap 
might  come  along  and  she  might  find  she  would 
rather  be  engaged  to  him!  Oh,  but  I  was  sure  she 


A    MESSAGE    AND    A    WARNING     221 

was  not  so  variable  as  that.  Still  a  vague  fear  kept 
recurring;  a  miserable,  tiny,  pricking  doubt — the 
crumpled  what's-its-name  in  the  bed  of  down,  you 
know — that  sort  of  thing! 

What  the  deuce  was  the  best  thing  to  do? 

"Pardon,  sir,"  came  in  Jenkins'  voice,  and  in  the 
glass  I  saw  his  head  piking  anxiously  over  my  shoul 
der;  "but  /  think  with  them  changeable  kind,  the 
best  thing  to  try  for  is  a  sudden,  firm  knot!" 

"Eh  ?"  I  said,  staring.  And  then  I  whirled  upon 
him,  seizing  both  his  hands. 

"By  Jove,  Jenkins!"  I  exclaimed  admiringly. 
"What  a  perfectly  out-and-out  corking  idea — a  reg 
ular  ripper,  you  know !  How  devilish  clever  of  you, 
dash  it!" 

"Certainly,  sir!"  Jenkins  batted  a  little — always 
does  when  I  notice  these  little  things — so  modest, 
don't  you  know. 

But  I  had  the  idea  now,  and  I  gripped  it  tight 
along  with  my  monocle,  as,  ten  minutes  later,  I 
sauntered  down  the  stairs. 

I  would  speak  to  her  father  at  once ! 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

I  SPEAK  TO  HER  FATHER 

"OO  glad  to  see  you  here,  my  boy,"  the  judge  was 
^-J  saying.  And  his  little  round  face  beamed  at 
me  across  the  library  table.  I  had  encountered  him 
in  the  hall  just  as  I  had  descended  to  rejoin  the  girls 
in  the  living-room.  Forthwith,  he  elbowed  me  into 
the  library. 

"Know  from  Jack  how  glad  you  always  are  to 
escape  girls,"  he  remarked  cheerily  as  he  produced 
cigars.  "Don't  blame  you  at  all — in  fact,  do  you 
know  it  refreshes  me  to  find — 

Don't  know  what  dashed  thing  it  refreshed  him 
to  find,  for  I  never  caught  it.  For  just  then  through 
the  doorway  there  floated,  from  across  the  hall,  a 
bar  of  music — the  laugh  of  the  dearest  girl  in  the 
world ! 

I  strained  for  another  bar. 

"Hah!"  ejaculated  the  judge,  pausing  with  ques 
tioning  uplift  of  cigar.  "The  silly  cackle  of  those 
girls — it  disturbs  you.  Yes,  it  does — I  can  see  it— 
you  look  disturbed."  And,  dash  it,  he  insisted  upon 
closing  the  door.  "You  mustn't  let  them  bother  you 
while  you  are  here,"  he  urged  pleasantly;  "you  must 
just  go  ahead  and  do  the  thing  you  want  to  do." 

222 


I    SPEAK    TO    HER    FATHER        223 

By  Jove,  there  seemed  little  opportunity  for  it ! 

"Thanks  awfully,"  I  murmured  feebly. 

The  judge  proceeded  genially:  "Of  course  we 
all  understand  that  you  just  came  up  to  Wolhurst 
to  please  Jack."  Then  his  face  clouded.  "H'm! 
Sorry  to  learn  that  he  came  home  with  another — " 
his  eyes  rolled  through  a  circle — "er — is  not  feel 
ing  just  fit.  It's  too  bad,  for  I  wanted  some  one  to 
take  you  over  the  neighborhood — interesting  land 
marks,  you  know,  reminiscent  of  Major  Andre  and 
Washington  Irving." 

"Charmed,  I'm  sure,"  I  chirped  up.  Jolly  lie, 
though,  for  I  wasn't  impressed;  didn't  know  who 
the  other  fellow  was,  but  I  had  seen  Irving  in  Lon 
don — scores  of  times.  Not  a  patch  on  John  Drew 
to  my  thinking ! 

The  judge  was  murmuring  something  apologetic : 

"So  I  can't  go  with  you,  myself,  you  see — but  I 
know  you  will  understand.  Just  so  infernally  tied 
up  with  preparation  of  rebuttal  in  suit  the  attorney- 
general  is  bringing  against  one  of  my  corporations 
— most  unreasonable  thing  you  ever  heard  of!''  The 
judge  crossed  his  legs  with  a  fling  of  impatience  and 
pulled  savagely  at  his  cigar.  "By  George,  Lightnut, 
we  are  getting  to  a  pass  with  politics  where  party 
organization  is  going  to  the  dogs — don't  you  think 
so,  eh?" 

"Oh,  dash  it,  yes — rotten,  you  know!"  I  worked 
off  indignantly — her  father,  don't  you  see!  Sat 
wondering  when  I  would  get  to  see  her — by  Jove, 


224         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

they  would  have  to  let  me  see  her  at  luncheon!    I 
just  caught  back  in  time  to  get  the  end  of  a  sentence : 

"Utter  defiance  of  personal  obligations!"  His 
hands  spread  eloquently.  "Tell  me  what  is  the  use 
of  electing  men  to  office,  when  they  time-servingly 
yield  before  the  clamor  of  the  cursed  populistic  and 
revolutionary  spirit  of  the  times?"  He  was  leaning 
toward  me  now,  his  jolly  face  swelling  with  indigna 
tion,  his  fist  beating  upon  his  knee.  "What  has  be 
come,  Mr.  Lightnut,"  he  pounded,  "of  the  time-hon 
ored  sanctity  of  the  'gentleman's  agreement' — eh? 
Where  now  the  pact  conventa?" 

"Where?"  I  shrugged,  and  I  let  it  go  at  that,  pre 
tending  to  be  busied  with  a  match ;  for  dash  me  if  / 
knew !  Never  had  seen  it  even — in  fact,  didn't  care 
a  jolly  hang  if  I  never  did,  don't  you  know. 

He  went  on  hammering:  "Here  I've  got  to  go 
and  stultify  myself,  arguing  against  my  own  de 
cision  when  I  was  on  the  bench !"  He  snorted.  "It's 
perfectly  abominable,  sir — outrageous!" 

And  the  judge  hurled  his  little  body  back  into  the 
chair  and  furiously  pumped  himself  into  a  cloud  of 
smoke.  He  glared  at  me  expectantly,  and  I  knew  I 
had  to  come  up. 

"Beastly  bad  form,  you  know!"  I  tried,  sending 
a  great  funnel  upward  and  frowning  after  it.  Fact 
was,  I  never  took  any  interest  in  political  questions 
— dashed  bore,  you  know.  Wondered  if  he  would 
spring  them  much  when  Frances  and  I  were — 

"Urn — well,  I  should  say  so!"  he  grunted;  and 


I    SPEAK    TO    HER    FATHER        225 

my  jerk  sent  ashes  all  over  me.  But  I  saw  that  he 
was  just  mollified  because  I  agreed  with  him.  Best 
system,  Pugsley  says,  is  always  to  agree  with  every 
body  in  politics — "humor  'em  gently,  just  like  chil 
dren,"  were  his  exact  words;  "you  know  it  really 
don't  matter !" 

"And  now,  let's  see,"  resumed  the  judge,  bright 
ening.  "I  wonder  who  we  can  get  to  take  you !"  His 
fingers  drummed  together  thoughtfully.  "Urn,  of 
course,  there  is  Francis — "  my  heart  took  a  jolly 
leap —  "but  Francis  is  impossible — quite  impos 
sible!" 

"By  Jove,  no!"  I  ejaculated  eagerly,  and  I  came 
up  in  my  chair  like  a  galvanized  what's-its-name. 
"Just  the  thing — be  delighted,  you  know." 

He  smiled  grimly.  "Natural  you  should  say  that, 
but — :"  He  expectorated  with  deliberation,  glower 
ing  at  me  as  he  did  it.  "No,  sir!"  His  head  shook 
with  decision.  "Wouldn't  do — I  wouldn't  think  of 
trusting  you  with  Francis,"  he  finished  shortly. 

"O!"  Just  a  gasp,  you  know;  and  my  jolly 
cheeks  stung  as  from  a  dash  of  fiery  what's-its-name 
sauce.  So  he  knew  about  the  pajamas,  too! 

I  half  rose  from  my  chair. 

"I — I  assure  you,  sir — "  I  began  stiffly. 

His  fussy  shrug  checked  me.  "No,  no,  we'll  just 
have  to  wait  till  Jack  gets  up.  The  only  thing  I'm 
anxious  about  is  the  scenery  and  the  view  points ; 
and  I  just  know  if  Francis  went  with  you,  you 
would  never  see  any  of  it." 


226         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

By  Jove,  I  thought  that  quite  likely  enough,  but 
of  course  it  was  devilish  personal  of  him  to  say 
so.  And  dash  seeing  the  scenery  and  view  points, 
anyway — who  wanted  to  see  them,  if  they  could 
see  her?  I  was  just  going  to  suggest  this,  when  he 
went  on : 

"The  fact  is—  He  hesitated,  then  flicked  his 
ashes  with  a  sigh.  "Oh,  well,  since  I've  said  as 
much  as  I  have,  I  should  go  further,  I  suppose.  It's 
only  fair  not  to  leave  you  in  the  dark,  especially  as 
my  daughter  was  enthusiastically  telling  me  just 
now" — puff — "that  she  already  looks  on  you  as  one 
of  the  family." 

"By  Jove,  did  she  though?"  I  hitched  to  the 
front  of  the  chair.  "How  dev — I  mean  how — 

He  nodded.  "And  so  I  feel  justified  in  talking 
to  you  frankly — not  that  I  want  to  prejudice  you 
against  Francis,  you  understand,  but  just  because" 
— his  head  wagged  soberly — "Francis  won't  do!" 
And  he  looked  at  me  steadily. 

Something  like  a  sharp  pain  struck  through  me. 
Again — and  this  time  from  her  own  father!  I  just 
sat  there  kind  of  frozen,  you  know,  except  that  I 
could  feel  the  smile  slowly  loosening  in  my  face. 
He  moved  to  a  seat  nearer. 

"I  don't  like  to  seem  to  be  disparaging  my  own 
flesh  and  blood,  Mr.  Lightnut,"  he  proceeded 
gravely,  "but  the  truth  is  Francis  is  the  only  one  of 
my  children  that  gives  me  any  anxiety." 

"Oh!"     I  felt  myself  shrink  together,  my  knees 


I    SPEAK    TO    HER    FATHER        227 

slanting  away  from  him.  My  dashed  monocle  hung 
limp. 

He  angled  closer.  "Jack's  drinking  is  bad — that 
I  admit,  but  perhaps — h'm — he  comes  by  it  natu 
rally;  still  Jack  has  never  forgotten  that  he  is  a 
gentleman — the  son  of  a  gentleman — and  has  never 
been  what  you  would  call  fast,  but — "  His  chest 
lifted  under  a  deep  breath — "but  Francis — -whew!" 

"Fast — Frances?"  It  faltered  tremulously  from 
my  lips ;  my  cigar  dropped  with  a  soft  thud. 

His  eyes  widened.  "Oh,  yes — frightfully!"  And 
he  tendered  me  another  cigar,  and  I  had  to  light  it 
— he  made  me!  "Of  course,  the  mistake  was  in 
ever  sending  Francis  away  to  school — not  always  a 
wise  thing,  Mr.  Lightnut,  especially  when  the  home 
life  has  been  too  cloistered.  I  think  the  reaction 
was  too  much  for  one  so  green  and  inexperienced 
as  Francis.  And  extravagance — my!"  He  lifted 
his  hands.  "I  thought  Jack  was  bad  enough  at 
Cambridge  with  a  thousand-dollar  apartment  on  the 
'Gold  Coast,'  as  you  call  it — and,  by  George,  you 
Harvard  men  have  got  the  right  name  for  it! — but 
Francis  beat  that  in  one  term's  drain  on  me  for 
poker  losses  and — " 

"Poker?"  I  moistened  my  lips.  Then  I  bright 
ened,  for  perhaps  he  meant  bridge — and  that  was 
good  form,  for  there  was  my  Aunt  Julia,  who  lived 
by  it — fact!  But  his  head  shook  impatiently  when 
I  suggested  that  he  meant  this. 

"Bridge!"  he  exploded.     "Why,  Francis  doesn't 


228         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

know  bridge  from  casino!  Poker,  I  tell  you,  and 
faro — and  all  the  rest.  The  plucking  was  done 
nightly  at  a  certain — er — club,  the  establishment  of 
a  gentleman  by  the  name  of  McGinty — 'Spot'  Mc- 
Ginty — oh,  you  know  the  place,  then?" 

For  I  had  gasped  audibly.  "Only — only  by  repu 
tation,"  I  responded  hastily. 

"Urn,  dare  say  it  has  got  'reputation/  all  right.  I 
guess,  too,  there  are  more  crooked  things  than 
streets  within  a  couple  of  miles  of  Harvard  Square, 
eh?  Why,  do  you  know,  Francis  and  a  couple  of 
classmates  were  caught  in  a  raid  there  one  night 
and  lugged  off  to  the  station  in  a  patrol — I  had  to 
bail  'em  out  by  wire.  That's  how  /  know  about  the 
place."  And,  discriminatingly,  he  selected  a  fresh 
cigar  and  lighted  it. 

"You — you  don't  mean  they  were  really  ar 
rested?"  I  faltered. 

He  nodded  grimly  through  a  funnel  of  smoke. 
"How  could  they  help  being?  Why,  dammit,  they 
were  too  drunk  to  get  away!"  He  settled  in  his 
seat  with  a  scowl.  "I  can  tell  you  it  was  all  I  could 
do  to  stave  off  expulsion !" 

My  jolly  head  spun.  By  Jove,  Radcliffe  girls 
must  have  moved  on  some  since  my  day!  Then 
they  were  coldly  intellectual — wTent  in  strong  for 
the  earnest  life,  you  know — the  serious  purpose  ex 
istence — all  that  sort  of  thing.  All  of  us  looked  on 
them  with  more  or  less  awe — that  is,  except  Smith- 
ers;  he  tried  some  intimate  flirtations,  one  morn- 


I    SPEAK    TO    HER    FATHER        229 

ing  with  a  bunch  in  the  Botanic  Gardens  and  got 
stung.  He  said  they  were  "prunes." 

But  Frances — and  "Spot"  McGinty's!  Surely  I 
had  not  heard  aright. 

I  I  faced  him  earnestly.  "I — er — Judge  Billings, 
do  I  understand  you — that  is,  it  can't  be  that  you  are 
speaking  of — er — Frances?"  I  stammered  incredu 
lously.  "I  mean  your  Frances — surely  you  are 
not!" 

"I  just  am!"  His  jaw  set  with  a  snap.  "Just 
who  I'm  talking  about  and  nobody  else,  young  man! 
I  mean,  my  Francis — Francis  Leslie  Billings — who 
else  could  I  mean?"  He  almost  groaned.  "Oh, 
you  don't  knozv  Francis !" 

Dash  it,  what  they  all  chorused  at  me!  They 
seemed  pretty  positive  about  it,  too,  and  I  was  jolly 
miserable ;  but  looking  back  now,  I  somehow  think 
of  that  moment  as  being  the  point  where  I  reached 
the  parting  of  the  what-you-call-'ems.  Didn't  know 
what  to  think,  but  knew  I  had  to  make  up  my  mind 
right  then  and  there — and  for  always,  don't  you 
know.  Knew,  of  course,  that  it  was  just  pure  luck 
that  Frances  cared  for  me — realized  jolly  well  I 
wasn't  particularly  clever  and  all  that,  you  know; 
but  she  didn't  seem  to  mind.  It  was  then  that  it 
came  to  me  all  of  a  sudden  that  the  only  dashed 
thing  in  all  the  world  that  I  could  give  her,  that  she 
didn't  seem  to  have  already  from  somebody,  was — 
well  just  trust. 

And,  by  Jove,  as  soon  as  I  got  hold  of  this  per- 


230         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

fectly  corking  idea,  I  knew  I  had  it  for  life,  and — 
well,  nothing  else  mattered  in  all  the  world,  you 
know! 

Meantime,  her  father  was  studying  me  a  little 
oddly  and  smiling. 

"I  see  you  don't  quite  like  what  I  say  about  Fran 
cis,"  he  remarked,  puffing  complacently. 

I  looked  him  straight  in  the  eye.  "Frankly,  I 
don't,  if  you  must  know,"  I  blurted.  Then  I 
screwed  my  monocle  tight  and  straightened  for 
ward.  "By  Jove,  I  think  you  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourself,  you  know!" 

"Wh— what's  th&tt—Lightmit!"  He  turned  a 
beet  color  and  grasped  the  arms  of  his  chair. 

"Oh,  I  do."  I  stood  up  and  he  followed.  "I 
think  if  that  poor  child  had  had  a  little — er — for 
bearance  and  kindness — that  sort  of  thing — oh,  dash 
it,  I  just  think  you've  been  infernally  harsh  always 
—yes,  I  do!" 

"Well,  I'll  be—"  He  swallowed  it,  neck  for 
ward,  and  stood  panting  a  bit.  ''Harsh,  eh?"  he 
jerked  at  me.  "Um!"  He  stood  there,  his  feet 
braced  apart,  his  white  brows  beetling  at  the  floor. 
"Harsh!"  He  cocked  his  head  on  one  side,  thrust 
ing  out  his  heavy  under-lip.  Then  came  a  sniff  and 
a  grunt,  and  oh,  he  looked  black ! 

I  was  feeling  devilish  pale — you  can,  you  know — 
and  a  little  trembly  from  excitement.  Wasn't  quite 
sure  what  I  had  said,  but  knew  jolly  well  I  must 
have  meant  it,  whatever  it  was.  Knew,  of  course, 


I    SPEAK    TO    HER    FATHER        231 

that  in  another  minute  it  would  be  his  come-back 
and  he  would  simply  slay  me.  He  would  look  at 
me  coldly  through  his  glasses,  bow  with  dignity,  and 
leave  the  room. 

And  then — 

I  wondered  if  Jenkins  had  a  time-table! 

And  just  then  came  a  quick  breath,  and  I  caught 
a  murmur:  "I  wonder  now  if,  after  all,  that  is 
true!  By  George,  they  say  children  and — "  The 
mutter  trailed  off.  "Here,  here,  my  boy — sit  down," 
he  exclaimed  suddenly ;  and  he  made  me. 

"I  want  to  thank  you,  Lightnut,"  he  said  im 
pressively.  "It  may  be  that  you  are  right.  Per 
haps  the  better  course  would  be  gently  to  reason 
with  Francis." 

"Oh,  Judge,  I  am  sure  of  it,"  I  urged  feelingly. 

"Well,  well,  my  boy — we'll  see."  He  patted  me 
on  the  knee.  "I'm  going  to  try  your  way — by 
George,  I'll  do  it  to-night!"  His  eyes  seemed  to 
hold  me  with  a  more  kindly  and  personal  interest. 
"Do  you  know  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  that 
you  find  so  much  in  Francis  to  like;  indeed,  I  am 
delighted"  Still  studying  me  attentively,  he  mus 
ingly  reached  for  a  fresh  light.  "In  point  of  fact, 
Lightnut,  I  am  free  to  say  I  hope  the  intimacy  be 
gun  between  you  two  will  grow  closer.  It  would  be 
a  thundering  good  thing  for  Francis  and  a  great 
comfort  to  me." 

And,  by  Jove,  he  smiled  at  me — a  devilish  pleas 
ant  smile! 


232          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

I  sat  up  straight,  uncrossed  my  legs  and  tried  it 
over  the  other  way.  Awfully  helpful  dodge,  you 
kno\v,  when  you  are  under  some  mental  agitation. 

He  was  looking  at  me  through  his  lashes  as  he 
drew  the  flame  to  his  cigar,  and  I  knew  that  now  was 
the  time  for  me  to  speak.  He  expected  it — had  delib 
erately  given  me  an  opening,  and  a  prime  one,  and 
now — was  waiting!  Of  course  he  couldn't  know 
that  I  was  so  dashed  inexperienced — unpractised, 
you  know — in  speaking  to  a  girl's  father  and  that  I 
didn't  even  know  the  correct  forms  and  usages.  An 
out-and-out  man  of  the  world  like  Judge  Billings 
just  couldn't  understand  this,  don't  you  know,  and 
to  have  him  suspect  the  truth — oh,  it  would  have 
been  too  mortifying — too  humiliating,  dash  it! 

So  I  just  leaned  forward  and  made  a  go : 

"Thanks  awfully;  and — er — by  the  way —  Then 
I  stuck,  boggled  wildly  an  instant  and  went  on : 
"That  is  to  say,  this  intimacy,  you  know — has  it 
been  too  short  to  justify—  '  I  gulped.  "Er — would 
you  be  willing  to  trust —  And  I  lost  the  dashed 
idea  again,  floundered  a  bit  and  took  another  shy: 
"Oh,  I  say,  you  know,  have  I  your  permission  to 
speak  to  Frances — er — you  know  ?" 

"You  speak  to  Francis?" — he  just  leaped  toward 
me —  "Why,  my  boy!"  And  he  was  wringing  my 
arm  with  one  hand  while  the  other  clasped  my  shoul 
der.  "My  de-e-ear  boy— -why,  Lightnut !"  By  Jove, 
he  almost  gushed!  "You're  not  joking  now,  are 
you  ?"  He  peered  anxiously  into  my  face.  "No,  by 


I    SPEAK    TO    HER    FATHER        233 

George,  I  believe  you  really  mean  it!"  And  he  went 
to  pumping  like  mad.  "How  awfully  good  of  you — 
self-sacrificing  is  the  word !  Are  you  quite  sure  you 
don't  mind  ?" 

"Mind?"  By  Jove,  I  think  I  looked  what  I  felt 
at  such  a  dashed  silly  question. 

"Well !  well !  well!  My  dear  young  friend !"  And 
oh,  he  went  on  in  the  most  disgusting  way — why, 
dash  it,  you  would  have  thought  I  was  doing  him 
some  favor !  I  guessed,  though,  that  it  was  the  usual 
custom,  but  it  seemed  rum — for  7  should  have 
thought  that  in  giving  your  daughter  away,  you  put 
the  thanks  up  to  the  other  fellow.  But  Pugsley  says 
the  rule  varies — quite  often  varies !  Anyhow,  I  felt 
so  gratified  that  I  had  taken  the  honorable  course 
and  spoken  to  her  father — understand  so  many  do 
not  at  all,  you  know.  As  it  was,  it  gave  me  quite 
a  comfortable  glow  of  pride,  and  I  reflected  how 
much  better  it  always  is  to  follow  the  wise  dictates 
of  your  what's-its-name ! 

"By  Jove!"  I  thought,  as  I  nodded  and  smiled 
back,  "I  wonder  what  he  would  say  if  he  knew  that 
Frances  and  I  are  already  engaged !" 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  FAMILY  BLACK   SHEEP 

T)  RESENTLY  I  got  in  a  word : 

"Then,    Judge,    I    have    your   permission    to 
speak  to  Frances  ?" 

"Permission?"  He  lifted  his  hands  and  eyes. 
"You  certainly  have,  my  boy — don't  I  make  it  clear? 
Why,  I'm  simply  delighted — and  grateful — oh,  so 
grateful  to  you!" 

And,  by  Jove,  he  meant  it — there  was  no  mistak 
ing  his  fervency!  But  it  made  me  feel  like  a  silly 
ass,  you  know.  Custom  or  no  custom,  it  just  made 
me  a  bit  nifty  to  think  her  father  would  speak  this 
way.  Might  be  good  form,  but  it  appeared  rotten 
taste — lots  of  things  seem  that  way,  dash  it!  Sug 
gested  this  to  Pugsley  once,  but  he  was  so  devilish 
shocked  couldn't  eat  his  luncheon — wasn't  able  to 
fetch  a  dashed  word  for  four  hours ! 

"Why,  Lightnut,"  he  dropped  to  a  chair,  leaning 
forward,  with  shining  eyes,  "you  can't  possibly 
know  what  this  means  just  at  this  time!  Why,  if 
3'ou  hadn't  offered  to  speak  to  Francis,  it's  not  likely 
that  any  one  else  ever  would !" 

"Judge!"  I  ejaculated,  shocked. 
234 


THE  FAMILY  BLACK  SHEEP   235 

"Who  would  want  to?"  And  he  grimaced  hor 
ribly. 

"Oh,  I  say  now!"  I  protested  warmly. 

"My  boy,  I  tell  you  I  know — you  don't!"  He 
lifted  his  hand  eloquently,  deflecting  the  corners  of 
his  mouth — oh,  such  a  way !  "No,  siree,  I  tell  you 
there's  not  another  living  man  would  dare  chance 
it !"  He  threw  himself  backward,  puffing  his  cheeks 
at  me  and  walling  his  eyes  frightfully.  "In  fact, 
hereabouts — where  Francis  is  known,  there  have 
been  two  men — only  just  two — who  ever  had  the 
temerity  to  do  it." 

"Oh!"  I  commented.  Wondered  if  one  of  these 
was  the  other  chap  she  was  engaged  to. 

He  proceeded  impressively :  "One  of  these,  my 
dear  sir,  was  our  rector — a  most  charming  and  ven 
erable  old  man,  now  nearly  eighty-three  and  par 
tially  paralyzed  and  deaf;  lives  a  sweet,  patient  life 
all  alone,  you  know,  with  no  one  in  the  world  to 
care  for  him.  Well,  sir,"  he  stiffened  dramatically, 
leveling  one  finger  at  me,  "do  you  think  that  Francis 
would  even  listen  to  him?" 

Did  I?    Well,  dash  it,  did  I? 

But  I  tried  to  mumble  something  polite. 

"And  then—  "  he  puffed  as  he  relighted  his  cigar, 
"there's  Jack's  chauffeur,  you  know." 

"Eh,  Jack's — what's  that?"  I  gripped  the  arms  of 
my  chair. 

"Yes,"  he  nodded,  "Jack's  chauffeur.  Oh,  I  was 
so  disappointed  at  the  result  of  his  effort!"  The  old 


236         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

gentleman  slipped  back  in  his  chair  with  a  sigh. 
"Francis  just  swore  at  him,  you  know!" 

''By  Jove !"  I  managed  to  get  out — and  yet,  some 
how,  I  was  devilish  pleased  about  it. 

"You  see?"  And  he  spread  out  his  hands.  "Ab 
solutely  no  sense  of  appreciation,  you  observe;  and 
it  had  seemed  such  a  splendid  chance!  You  see 
they  had  been  so  intimate — oh,  are  still,  for  that 
matter." 

I  caught  my  breath.  "In — intimate!"  I  stam 
mered.  "You  don't  mean  Frances  and  this  chauf 
feur?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  carelessly,  "Scoggins  is  all  right ;  very 
superior  young  man  for  his  position — fond  of  Fran 
cis,  you  know,  and  I  really  think  has  great  in 
fluence."  He  puffed  complacently  an  instant.  "Fact 
is,  they  are  always  together  when  Francis  is  home" 
— puff — "motoring,  boating,  or  else  off  somewhere 
camping  together." 

"Wha-at — what's  that — not  camping?"  I  looked 
at  him  aghast.  "Oh,  come  now,  Judge — really  you 
don't  mean  that,  do  you — not  camping  together?" 

I  spoke  excitedly,  but  he  just  stared  at  me  with 
an  expression  of  blank  surprise. 

"Eh?  Why,  certainly,  my  dear  boy — for  weeks 
at  a  time — and  why  not?"  His  shift  manifested 
some  impatience.  "Pshaw,  Lightnut,"  he  growled, 
flicking  his  ash,  "what's  the  odds — why  be  so  par 
ticular?  /  don't  mind!"  He  jammed  his  hands  into 
his  trousers  pockets  till  it  seemed  he  would  go 


THE    FAMILY    BLACK    SHEEP      237 

through  them.  "I  tell  you,  I'm  glad  I'm  dem 
ocratic  !" 

"Oh !"  I  uttered,  seeing  a  light. 

So  that  was  it!  Well,  in  any  case,  I  knew  now 
that  I  was  a  republican,  by  Jove !  Never  did  know 
before  what  I  was  and  it  was  a  devilish  relief  to 
find  out.  Half  made  up  my  mind,  then  and  there, 
I  would  vote  next  election — never  had,  you  know; 
few  of  our  set  ever  did.  Pugsley,  for  one,  held  it  to 
be  doubtful  form. 

"Bright,  self-made  young  man,"  I  caught  as  I 
came  back.  By  Jove,  he  was  still  talking  about  that 
beastly  chauffeur!  "Such  fine  morals,  you  know." 

"Oh,  dash  it,  yes!"  And  I  think  this  must  have 
'been  when  I  broke  the  corner  out  of  a  filling. 

"That  was  why  I  was  so  sorry  he  failed  with 
Francis,"  he  continued  regretfully,  "but  you  may 
succeed  better — oh,  I  don't  know  but  what  it  will 
do  just  as  well !" 

"Thanks — er — awfully!"  I  murmured  weakly. 

"Oh,  I  think  so — oh,  yes!"  He  bobbed  his  head 
as  though  he  were  quite  resigned  to  it — then  went 
on  thoughtfully : 

"And  anyhow,  if  Francis  finds  you  are  in  deadly 
earnest,  why  it — "  His  voice  dropped  off  musingly : 
"Well,  I  believe  that  would  make  it  easier — oh,  lots 
easier  for  Scoggins." 

I  blinked  a  little  with  my  free  eye. 

Wasn't  sure,  you  know,  but  somehow  it  seemed 
to  me  a  rum  thing  to  say — almost  offensive,  dash 


238         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

it!  But  then,  for  that  matter,  everything  was  rum 
of  late — so  that  counted  for  nothing.  Fact  was,  it 
just  seemed  to  me  like  there  was  something  in  the 
air — everybody  seemed  so  queer — well,  jolly  mud 
dled,  I  should  call  it!  Idea  had  been  gradually 
coming  to  me  that  I  was  the  only  one  who  appeared 
to  have  any  clear  understanding  of  things;  and 
somehow  the  realization  just  made  me  devilish  nerv 
ous — the  responsibility,  don't  you  know ! 

And  just  then  the  judge  looked  suddenly  at  his 
watch,  muttered  something,  and  hitched  up  to  the 
table  strewn  with  papers.  He  bent  over  these  with 
a  frown,  coughed  oddly,  glanced  at  me — and  bent 
again  with  a  mutter.  Of  course,  I  saw  he  was  an 
noyed  over  sudden  consciousness  of  the  break  he 
had  made,  and  was  striving  to  cover  his  embarrass 
ment. 

And,  by  Jove,  it  seemed  to  me  he  ought  to  fed 
embarrassed,  for  the  very  rummest  thing  yet  was 
this  crazy  infatuation  for  this  infernal  chauffeur. 
It  was  pitiful — oh,  disgusting,  if  you  ask  me — 
and  the  more  so  because  it  was  something  she  did 
not  share.  I  knew  she  didn't,  you  know!  No,  it 
was  plain  enough,  dash  it,  that  between  her  fa 
ther  and  this  mucker  of  a  chauffeur,  my  poor  dar 
ling  was  being  crowded  to  the  what's-its-name. 
This  was  what  she  had  meant — had  hinted  at — and, 
by  Jove,  I  was  ready  to  wager  anything  on  it ;  eager 
to  put  up  all  I  was  worth,  you  know ! 

Didn't  know,  dash  it,  how  much  I  was  worth 


THE    FAMILY    BLACK    SHEEP      239 

Went  down  in  Wall  Street  one  day  and  asked  old 
Morley,  my  man  of  affairs,  but  forgot  what  he  said. 
Never  could  remember  afterward  whether  it  was 
one  million  or  ten  and  always  hated  to  ask  again. 

Truth  was  he  had  stared  at  me  so  and  seemed  so 
oddly  surprised,  I  just  worked  off  some  jolly  apolo 
getic  rubbish  and  got  out.  Pugsley  thought  I  must 
have  violated  some  rotten,  silly  law  of  commercial 
ethics — that  sort  of  thing,  you  know ;  declared  that 
his  attorney  had  had  the  dashed  impertinence  once 
to  ask  him  about  some  investments,  so  he  got  an 
other  man  and  gave  him  a  power  of  what's-its- 
name.  Never  was  bothered  now,  he  said,  by  checks 
or  reports  or  any  boring  distractions  of  that  sort ; 
this  man  just  kept  him  supplied  with  money,  and 
once  in  a  while  he  scrawled  his  name  on  something 
— all  he  had  to  do.  Devilish  simple,  you  see,  but 
then  Pugsley  is  so  ingenious,  so — oh,  clever,  you 
know. 

"H'm!"  coughed  the  judge,  "Er— h'm!"  And  I 
stopped  snapping  the  cover  of  my  cigarette  case, 
thinking  he  was  about  to  say  something,  but  he  did 
not  look  up.  By  Jove,  how  I  wished  that  he  were 
really  busy,  so  I  might  slip  out  without  danger  of 
offending  him !  But  I  was  afraid  to  chance  it— did 
so  want  to  rub  him  right,  don't  you  know,  on  ac 
count  of  Frances.  Knew  he  was  still  feeling  a  bit 
plucked  over  his  slip  of  the  tongue — showed  plainly 
he  was  bothered,  you  know;  you  could  tell  by  his 
puckered  brows  and  the  way  he  kept  clearing  his 


240         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

throat.  So  meantime,  knowing  that  the  best  thing 
was  to  appear  unconscious — just  give  him  time,  you 
know — I  fell  carelessly  to  jingling  some  coins  in  my 
pocket  and  tapping  my  foot  upon  the  hardwood,  as 
I  hummed  a  devilish  neat  little  air  from  La  Juive 
that  I  almost  knew  by  heart : 

"Qu'il,  Vapprenne  de  vousf 
Helas,  je  vous  implore,  benissez  mon  epoux — " 

By  Jove,  I  had  just  got  that  far,  when  he  shook 
his  head  with  a  kind  of  snort,  threw  down  his  pen, 
and  got  to  his  feet,  facing  me  with  a  sickly  smile. 

"I  am  going  to  asfe  you  to  excuse  me,  my  dear 
Lightnut" — came  right  out  frankly  like  that,  you 
know!  "But  the  fact  is — "  he  opened  and  shut  his 
watch — nervously,  you  know — "I  have  just  realized 
how—" 

But  I  stopped  him — couldn't  let  him  go  on,  of 
course :  "Oh,  I  say,  you  know !  Not  another  word, 
my  dear  Judge — I  don't  care  a  jolly  hang,  dash  it!" 
And  to  show  him.  I  smiled,  got  out  a  cigarette,  and 
perched  kind  of  sidewise  on  the  edge  of  the  table. 
"I'm  not  a  bit  sensitive,  don't  you  know !" 

He  stared.  "Indeed,  no — I  see  you  are  not!"  he 
said  warmly. 

I  drew  a  light  a  bit  airily.   "Of  course,"  I  puffed, 
"what  you  are  thinking  of  is  your  servant,  but  I" — 
I  shot  him  a  light  wink — "I've  got  to  think  a  little 
about  my  own  affair,  don't  you — " 
"Lightnut!"    He  caught  me  by  the  arms,  his  face 


THE    FAMILY    BLACK    SHEEP      241 

reddened  almost  black.     "My  dear  boy,  ten  thou 
sand  pardons !    I  assure  you — " 

"That's  just  all  right,  Judge,"  I  reassured  him 
soothingly.  "All  I  am  holding  out  for  is  just  to  be 
sure  we  understand  each  other  about  Frances — that 
I  may  be  sure  I  have  your  authority — " 

"So  that's  it!"  He  relaxed  with  a  deep  breath. 
Then  quietly :  "My  dear  boy,  you  make  me  ashamed 
of  myself — I  was  rude!"  And  he  shook  my  hand. 
"Yes,  indeed — you  just  go  right  ahead ;  almost  any 
thing  is  preferable  to  the  vicious  life  Francis  is  lead 
ing — anything!"  He  sighed  and  his  voice  dropped 
confidentially:  "I'm  afraid  even  you  would  be  dis 
couraged  if  I  told  you  of  one  or  two  disgraceful  epi 
sodes  at  Cambridge — I  know  Scoggins  would  be!" 

Scoggins  again — always  Scoggins!  Dash  Scog 
gins  !  Of  course  he  would  be  discouraged,  but  I 
should  not.  Devilish  simple  reason,  you  know — 
wouldn't  believe  it,  by  Jove ! 

"Yes,  I  learned  all  about  it  from  my  daughter 
when  she  came  home,"  he  proceeded  gloomily ;  "she 
feels  that  in  a  measure  it  has  marred  Miss  Kirk- 
land's  visit  with  her." 

Miss  Kirkland !  I  recalled  now  that  that  was  the 
name  of  the  girl  from  China.  By  Jove,  /  preferred 
to  thmk  of  her  as  the  frump ! 

"For  Miss  Kirkland  heard  the  gossip  at  Cam 
bridge — seems  she  has  friends  there  among  the  resi 
dents  ;  and  they  were  kind  enough  to  tell  her  of 
these  things  of  the  year  before  as  soon  as  they  no- 


242          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

ticed  how  devoted  Francis  was  to  her.  At  least  this 
is  what  my  daughter  suspects — Miss  Kirkland  is  not 
the  kind  to  talk,  you  know." 

Oh,  wasn't  she!  By  Jove,  I  wondered  what  he 
would  think  if  he  had  heard  our  conversation  in  the 
hall !  But  it  wasn't  for  me  to  tell  him  he  was  warm 
ing  a  what's-its-name  to  his  bosom,  so  I  just  mum 
bled  a  reply. 

"Nevertheless,"  he  shrugged,  "it  is  easy  to  see 
that  she  can't  stand  the  sight  of  Francis."  He  shook 
his  head  dismally.  "Charming  girl,  Mr.  Lightnut — 
a  rare  and  perfect  type  of  the  English  beauty  at  her 
best." 

Oh,  was  she!  Not  if  I  knew  anything  about  it, 
and  I  had  seen  three  seasons  in  London.  By  Jove, 
I  was  so  terribly  shocked  I  could  just  feel  it  in  my 
face! 

He  seemed  surprised.  "Don't  you  think  so?"  he 
insisted. 

"Well,  I  rather  don't,  you  know !"  It  just  blurted 
out  of  itself.  "Oh,  I  say — now,  you're  not  really  in 
earnest?"  And  I  screwed  my  glass  so  hard  in  my 
embarrassment,  I  hurt  my  eye —  "You  know  she's 
a  freak!  Why,  dash  it—  I  pulled  up,  for  after 
all,  she  was  a  fellow  guest. 

He  stared,  jammed  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets 
and  bent  toward  me.  "Now,  look  here,  my  boy,  do 
you  mean  to  say  you  don't  think  Miss  Kirkland  a 
beautiful  and  winning  girl?" — I  guess  he  did  see  I 
meant  it,  for  he  slowly  emitted  an  expressive  whis- 


THE  FAMILY  BLACK  SHEEP   243 

tie — "Well,  you  are  hopeless  then — utterly  hope 
less!"  and  dash  it,  he  just  groaned! 

"But  now,  my  dear  young  friend,"  he  went  on, 
and  with  a  glance  at  the  littered  table,  "I  want  you 
to  go  out  and  get  some  fresh  air  before  the  bloom 
of  the  morning  is  past — if  you  go  out  this  way,  you 
will  avoid  encountering  those  girls" — his  hand  gen 
tly  but  firmly  urged  me.  "It  has  been  just  abomina 
bly  selfish  of  me  to  have  kept  you  stuffed  in  here ;  I 
know  I  have  bored  you  to  death  with  all  this  about 
the  family  black  sheep — I  feel  that  now  I  must  let 
you  escape." 

"Oh,  no — not  at  all!"  I  protested  hastily  and  pull 
ing  back.  Never  would  do  to  let  him  feel  that  way, 
you  know !  "Really,  'pon  honor  now,  thing  I  want 
to  do  is  just  stay  here  and  talk  to  you  about 
Frances." 

"Oh,  damn  Fran — h'm — I  mean  Francis  will 
keep!"  He  caught  himself  hastily  before  the  stare 
of  my  glass,  fumbling  with  the  papers  to  cover  his 
confusion.  Then  he  clapped  me  on  the  shoulder, 
pressing  me  again  toward  the  door.  "You  just  go 
ahead  and  do  whatever  you  can  with  Francis  your 
self — you  are  my  only  hope!  Or  wait,  and  I'll  pre 
pare  the  way  for  you  to-night — that's  it ,  that's 
best!" — and  he  went  to  nodding.  Then  he  halted 
my  progress  and  eyed  me  intently.  "There's  an 
other  thing:" — his  voice  dropped — "I  think  it's  just 
as  well  Jack  shouldn't  know  of  your  intentions 
about  Francis ;  he  would  never  approve — oh,  never!" 


244         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

He  pursed  his  lips  to  just  a  thin  curve  as  he  shook 
his  head  positively.  His  eyes  bored  at  me  over  his 
glasses.  I  moistened  my  lips. 

"I  know  he  feels  you  have  already  concerned 
yourself  enough  about  Francis,"  he  said  deliber 
ately.  "The  other  night  at  your  rooms — er,  you 
know !  Jack  is  so  particular  in  those  little  things. 
Ah,  there's  a  model  for  you !" 

He  looked  upward  and  wagged  his  head  as  he 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  door-knob.  By  Jove,  how 
I  wished  he  would  open  it,  for  the  room  was  getting 
devilish  warm! 

"And  as  for  things  I  deplore  in  Francis — oh,  no, 
never  any  of  that  with  Jack !" — he  stiffened  proud 
ly — "he  may,  as  I  have  said,  imbibe  a  little  too 
much,  now  and  then ;  but  when  it  comes  to  scandal 
— well,  I  have  yet  to  hear  the  slightest  breath — " 

A  sharp  knock  cut  in  abruptly. 

"Come  in !"    And  he  swung  the  door  open. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

FLORA 

IN  the  doorway  stood  the  butler,  looking  rather 
pale.  With  him  was  a  woman — one  of  the  an 
gular  sort,  you  know,  and  whom  I  judged  to  be  the 
housekeeper. 

She  wasn't  pale !  No,  by  Jove,  she  was  fiery  red, 
even  to  her  hair ;  and  red,  too,  the  anvil  sparks  that 
were  snapping  from  her  eyes.  She  marched  right 
in,  followed  by  Wilkes,  who  carefully  closed  the 
door — then  stood  discreetly  aloof.  Pantingly,  she 
faced  the  judge,  who  was  staring  at  her  in  amaze 
ment. 

"Why,  Miss  Warfield,"  he  began,  "what—" 

"Judge  Billings !"  she  exploded.  And,  by  Jove,  it 
was  like  the  blast  from  a  mighty  bellows!  "It's 
about  Mr.  Jack!" 

The  judge's  face  flushed  apprehensively. 

"Jack — about  Jack?"  he  repeated.  "Is  he — er — 
worse?" 

"Worse?"  The  bellows  inflated  sharply.  "Worse 
is  just  it — it's  the  shock  of  finding  out  things  I 
never  even  suspected!"  She  whirled  upon  the  but 
ler. 

245 


246         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"You  tell  him !"  she  snapped  sharply. 

Wilkes  shivered  as  under  a  sudden  cold  what's- 
its-name.  He  looked  at  her  protestingly,  his  eye 
cutting  a  suggestive  hint  of  my  presence. 

"Oh,  go  on!" — the  judge  nodded  to  him  with 
some  impatience.  "It's  all  right — Mr.  Lightnut  is 
like  one  of  us.  Out  with  it,  whatever  it  is !" 

"Yes,  sir."  Wilkes  coughed  acquiescence,  but 
shot  a  glance,  half- reproachful,  half -apprehensive, 
at  the  housekeeper. 

She  straightened,  bristlingly. 

"Are  you  going  to  tell  him  or  not — and  you  a 
man? — or  will  you  put  it  on  me?"  And  she  began 
to  inflate  again. 

The  poor  devil  took  the  plunge : 

"The  fact  is,  sir,  Mr.  Jack — h'm!" — he  fidgeted 
through  an  instant's  misery,  then  let  it  come :  "It's 
about  him  and  one  of  the  maids,  sir!" 

"Wh-a-a-t?" 

In  the  jaw-twisting  roar,  the  judge  all  but  lost  his 
plate — his  hand  came  up  just  in  time  to  save  it.  As 
for  Wilkes,  his  portly  figure  seemed  to  lift,  balloon- 
like,  from  the  floor  for  an  instant,  then  settled  back. 

"It's  Flora,  sir,"  he  uttered  faintly. 

"Flora?" 

"Yes,  sir."  And  Wilkes  quailed  before  the 
judge's  brows. 

Miss  Warfield  sniffed. 

The  judge  scowled  at  her.  "Are  you  both  crazy?" 
he  demanded.  "What  is  all  this — what  is  it  you 


FLORA  247 

have  to  tell  ?  Say  it  all  in  a  word — one  or  the  other 
of  you — and  have  done!"  His  jaw  settled  with  a 
snap. 

The  housekeeper  assumed  an  injured  air.  "Well, 
sir,"  she  said  with  a  toss,  "it  just  means  this :  either 
I  or  Flora  go  at  the  end  of  this  week — I  give  notice 
now!" 

"All  right,"  said  the  judge  with  a  sort  of  bland 
ugliness,  "then  that's  settled — you  go !  That  is,  un 
less  you  can  get  right  down  to  brass  tacks  this  in 
stant  and  say  what  you've  got  to  say." 

And,  black  as  thunder,  the  old  boy  laid  his  hand 
upon  the  knob.  By  Jove,  it  did  me  good  to  see  her 
crinkle  up ! 

"I'm  sure  I  beg  your  pardon,  Judge,"  she  said, 
her  voice  modifying  to  a  snuffling  twang,  "but  this 
has  so  upset  my  nerves — Mr.  Jack,  of  all  men !" 
She  fumbled  for  her  handkerchief  before  she  found 
it — Pugsley  says  they  always  do!  "Such  talk,  sir! 
I  never — "  With  a  kind  of  gurgle,  she  suddenly 
flopped  into  the  nearest  chair  and  lay  there,  wrig 
gling  like  a  jolly  auto  freshly  cranked,  and  snorting 
like  its  horn. 

The  judge,  with  head  down,  glared  at  her  through 
his  glasses. 

"Talk?  That's  nothing!" — he  uttered  a  snort. 
"Why,  hang  it,  madam,  he's  drunk!  Can't  you  have 
a  little  Christian  charity  and  put  yourself  in  his 
place?  The  poor  boy  doesn't  know  what  he's  say- 
ing!" 


248         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

She  looked  up  with  a  head  jerk.  "That's  it — 
that's  just  what  makes  it  so  awful,"  she  sniveled; 
"the  revelations,  you  know!" 

"Revelations,  fiddlesticks!"  champed  the  judge, 
and  he  jerked  his  head  to  the  butler.  "Go  on, 
Wilkes !  What  has  Mr.  Billings  said  that's  queerer 
than — er — usual  ?" 

Wilkes  rubbed  his  neck.  "Well,  sir,  to  my  think 
ing,  it  ain't  so  much  what  he's  said  that's  queer — 
leastwise,  it  wasn't  at  first — as  what  he  did.  First 
off,  there  was  his  stalling  about  taking  his  bath, 
which  was  on-usual,  for  Perkins  says,  generally 
speaking,  he's  right  keen  for  it — more  'specially 
when  he's  rather  well  soused — "  Wilkes  coughed. 
"H'm !  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir !  Anyhow,  this  time 
he  wouldn't  have  it  at  all ;  no,  sir !  He  was  very  ex 
cited  about  it — kinder  out  of  his  head,  I  may  say — 
and  buttonholed  me  and  Perkins  and  went  on  a 
whole  lot  about  only  the  under  man  being — no,  let 
me  see,  lower  man  was  what  he  said — the  lower 
man  being  an — an" — Wilkes'  brows  contracted  as 
he  strained  for  it — "an  am — h'm — funny  I  can't 
remember  that  word — a  amfibby  something — 
Well,  anyhow,  he  said  he  never  used  water  £;r-ter- 
nally." 

A  penetrating  moan  from  the  handkerchief  star 
tled  us. 

"Then — then  he  never  uses  it  at — at  all!"  came  in 
a  muffled  wail. 

The  judge's  teeth  glittered  at  her  in  one  united 


FLORA  249 

row ;  then  he  jerked  a  nod  to  Wilkes.  "Go  on !"  he 
commanded  shortly. 

But  the  butler  was  glooming  sullenly  at  the  fiery 
head  that  topped  the  bundle  of  black. 

"He  does,  too !"  he  protested.  "  'Cause  Perkins 
asked  him  if  he  wouldn't  like  some  ice-water  and  he 
said  he  would  if  he  might  drink  it  his  own  way." 

"His  own  way — um — well?" 

"And  when  Perkins  brought  it,  he  poured  it  down 
his  neck — yes,  sir,  every  drop — " 

The  master  cut  in  irritably :  "His  neck — con 
found  it,  man,  tell  your  story  without  slang — or 
leave  off !  You  know  I  detest — 

"Not  slang,  sir" — hastily — "his  neck — outside,  I 
mean — " 

"Oh,  stuff !"— incredulously— "mean  to  tell  me—" 

"He  did,  sir — I'll  swear  it !"  The  butler  was  re 
spectful,  but  firm  as  the  rock  of  what's-its-name. 
"Perkins  tried  to  stop  him  and  says :  'Wait  a  minute, 
Mr.  Jack — you're  making  a  mistake — it  ain't  'round 
there;  it's  in  front,  you  know!'  And  he  turned  on 
Perkins  with  a  scowl  something  awful,  and  his  lan- 
gwige — well,  it  wasn't  langwige  at  all!  Perkins 
thought—  He  paused. 

"Um!"  The  judge  had  drawn  me  aside.  "The 
alienation  is  unusual — what  do  you  think,  Light- 
nut?" — he  looked  grave — "it  doesn't  seem  the  ordi 
nary  hiatus — the  passing  alcoholic  dementia,  you 
know — there  seems  in  it  something  hydrophobic — 
eh?" 


250         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Oh,  dash  it,  yes — that's  all!"  I  said  offhand- 
just  took  a  chance,  don't  you  know ! 

"Um !"  He  blinked  at  me ;  then  faced  square 
about.  "I  guess  I'd  better  go  up;  perhaps  when  he 
sees  me — " 

He  halted,  leveling  a  stern  glance  at  Wilkes. 

"What  the  dev — what  are  you  grinning  about?" 
he  rasped. 

"I'm  not,  sir!"  And  the  butler's  hand  came 
down,  revealing  a  sobered  countenance.  "I  was  just 
a-wondering  if  he  would  try  to  get  you  to  put  on  the 
pajamas — he  did  all  the  rest  of  us,  even —  '  His  eye 
angled  cautiously  at  the  housekeeper,  then  batted  at 
us  significantly  as  her  red  head  wriggled  deeper. 
"Fact  is,  I  think  he's  kinder  gone  off  about  pajamas 
— just  as  I  told  you,  sir."  His  glance  appealed  to 
me.  "Yes,  sir,  when  I  took  you  his  message — you 
know — and  brought  back  yours,  it  was  even  more 
so  then." 

I  felt  myself  get  devilish  red,  then  pale,  for  the 
judge's  eyes  were  on  me. 

"Yes,"  he  muttered,  still  looking  at  me,  "he  was 
telling  me  something  the  other  day  about  some  silk 
pajamas." 

And  then  I  knew  he  knew! 

"Yes,  sir,"  continued  Wilkes,  "when  I  got  back 
with  your  message,  Mr.  Lightnut,  he  seemed  to  get 
more  excited  about  them — about  pajamas,  I  mean, 
He  talked  to  me  and  Perkins  through  the  door 
crack  and  wanted  one  of  us  to  put  'em  on — 'in  the 


FLORA  251 

interests  of  science,'  he  called  it — and  offered  to 
pass  'em  out." 

"Poor  fellow — poor  fellow!" — and  the  judge 
looked  pitiful — "well,  why  didn't  you  humor  him?" 

"I — I  don't  know,  sir!"  The  butler  looked  em 
barrassed.  "And,  anyhow,  it  was  just  then  Mrs. 
Warfield  came,  and  he  tried  to  get — " 

"Oo-o-o-o !"  from  the  black  bundle. 

"And  then —       Wilkes  hesitated,  looking  uneasy. 

"Go  on,  man!" 

The  butler  coughed  faintly.  "Well,  sir,  when  she 
— h'm — refused — it  was  then  he  asked  for  Flora. 
'All  right,  then  you  bring  me  my  Flora/  was  what 
he  said,  and  he  sounded  irritated  like.  'Beg  pardon, 
sir?'  says  Perkins,  putting  his  head  to  the  crack 
kinder  inquiringly.  'My  Flora,  man!'  he  comes 
back  sharp;  'just  find  and  bring  my  Flora — and 
some  pins;' — he  seemed  particular  about  the  pins — 
'if  I've  got  to  stay  alone,  I  want  something  to  divert 
me — I  want  my  Flora !' '  And  the  butler  mopped 
his  forehead. 

The  bundle  erected  itself.  "His  'wild  Flora,'  was 
what  he  said,"  Miss  Warfield  corrected  sharply ;  "he 
said  he  wanted  to  embrace — 

"Press,"  Wilkes  corrected  in  turn. 

She  inflated  with  one  drive  of  the  piston.  "If 
there's  any  difference,  7  don't  know  it !"  came  in  a 
blow-out.  And,  dash  me,  if  I  believe  she  did.  She 
looked  it,  by  Jove ! 

She    faced    the   judge,    who    was    leaning   back 


252         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

against  the  table,  looking  kind  of  punctured,  don't 
you  know.  By  Jove,  it  seemed  to  me  he  had  grown 
five  years  older  in  as  many  minutes ! 

This  seemed  to  brighten  her.  "Wanted  to  press 
his  'wild  Flora' — his  very  words !"  her  voice  rasped. 

My,  but  that  woman  looked  vicious!  She  blew 
her  nose,  crossed  her  hands,  and  propped  herself  on 
one  foot  with  an  air  of  ladylike  resignation. 

"I  was  so  shocked  you  might  have  knocked  me 
over  with  a  feather,  but  I  managed  to  speak  to  him 
— I  don't  know  how  I  ever  did  it ! — and  I  said : 
'You  don't  mean  Flora,  sir — you  can't  treat  Flora 
that  way!'  And  if  you  could  have  seen  the  way  he 
flew  to  pieces !  'Why  can't  I  ?'  he  yelled  at  me.  'Do 
you  think  I  haven't  done  it  before?'  Exactly  what 
he  said  and  I  could  hardly  believe  my  ears;  and 
then" — here  she  began  to  wabble  and  the  handker 
chief  came  up — "then  he — he  called  me  a  wo- 
woman !" 

And,  by  Jove,  she  was  off  the  road ! 

But  it  seemed  to  give  the  judge  new  interest  in 
life!  He  just  needed  some  jolly  thing,  you  know; 
and  now  he  flared  up  sudden  and  went  up  in  the  air 
like  a  freshly  touched-off  what's-its-name : 

"A  woman?"  His  cheeks  blew  out  like  little  red 
balloons.  "Well,  dammit,  madam,  what  are  you — 
aren't  you  a  woman?" — hands  on  hips  he  just 
howled  it  at  her — "what  do  you  think  you  are?" 

For  an  instant  she  quailed  before  him  like  the 


FLORA  253 

stricken  what-you-call-it — but  only  for  an  instant! 
Then  her  long  neck  coiled  back  and  her  eyes  glit 
tered  beady  and  snake-like;  I  heard  a  sort  of  rattle 
in  her  throat,  and  then,  of  course,  I  knew  she  was 
going  to  strike — and  she  did ! 

"Very  good,  Judge!"  She  sniffed  it.  "Still  it's 
my  duty  to  tell  you — or  any  one  that  asks  me,  for 
that  matter — exactly  what  Mr.  Jack  said!"  She 
moistened  her  lips  with  the  end  of  a  red  tongue,  and 
clucked  in  a  sad,  pitying  sort  of  way.  "Your  son 
looked  straight  at  me  through  the  door-crack  and 
laughed  in  the  most  contemptuous  way,  and  he  said : 
'You  just  leave  my  Flora  to  me,  woman!  This 
time  you're  talking  of  something  you  know  nothing 
about  and  never  did  know — why,  I've  pressed  Flora 
a  thousand  times !' — yes,  sir,  just  what  he  said !" — 
she  whirled  on  Wilkes — "you  heard  him  say  it, 
too!" 

The  butler's  sullen  eye-droop  admitted  it. 

"Huh!"  And  she  tossed  her  head  back  with  a 
nasty  smile. 

By  Jove,  she  had  got  the  judge  full  and  square — 
you  could  see  it  as  he  stood  there  looking  down, 
his  face  jolly  gray  and  drawn  and  his  under-lip  kind 
of  dragging  through  his  teeth.  He  was  a  gamey  old 
boy,  but  he  had  had  a  devilish  hard  knock  where  he 
lived  you  know — Jack! 

"George!" — just  a  deep  breath,  you  know — then 
he  faced  me.  "You  will  excuse  me,  Lightnut?  I 


254         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

must  see  to  this."  And  he  walked  out,  followed  by 
Wilkes. 

Somehow,  dash  it,  it  just  bowled  me  over  to  see 
his  gray  hairs  humbled  in  this  way  to  the  what- 
you-call-it — he  had  such  a  devilish  few  of  'em  left, 
too,  you  know!  So,  before  I  knew  it,  I  had  walked 
right  up  to  the  old  mountain  cat  and  took  a  hand 
myself. 

"I  say,  you  know!"  I  said,  screwing  my  monocle 
down  on  her.  "Too  devilish  bad  you've  got  yourself 
in  such  a  pickle — 

"Me  in  a  pickle?"  she  snorted.  "Huh!" — and  her 
ropy  neck  went  up  again,  but  I  struck  first : 

"You've  played  smash,  don't  you  know,"  I  went 
on,  tightening  my  glass.  "Awfully  sorry — just 
wanted  to  give  you  a  hint.  You  know  this  sort  of 
thing's  against  the  law — something  or  other  crim 
inal — malicious  libel  or  malfeasance  or — er — felo 
nious  assault  or  some  dashed  thing  of  that  sort" 
— her  eyes  began  to  widen — "Oh,  yes,"  I  drawled, 
"you're  in  for  the  very  deuce  of  a  scrape  unless  you 
keep  quiet!" 

"Who  says  so?"  she  tried  to  bridle. 

"/  do!"  I  said,  boring  her  steadily.  "Witness, 
you  know!  So  is  Wilkes — both  of  us — to  whatever 
dashed  thing  it  is  the  judge  decides  you've  done — / 
don't  know,  you  know!" — I  shrugged  carelessly. 
"But  he  knows — he's  a  lawyer — and  of  course  he'll 
explain  it  to  Wilkes  and  me  as  witnesses.  That's 


FLORA  255 

what  witnesses  are  for,  don't  you  know !  Better  go 
to  your  room  and  await  arrest  quietly." 

"Oh!"  She  kind  of  caught  her  breath,  turning 
green  and  dropping  her  skinny  hand  upon  a  chair- 
back.  And  I  was  going  on  explaining  to  her,  when 
I  looked  up  and  there  was  Jenkins. 

"'Pardon,  sir,"  he  said,  looking  at  me  oddly,  "but 
there's  a  caller  waiting,  and  he  was  so  urgent  and 
particular,  I  came — 

"Card !"  I  suggested,  extending  a  couple  of 
fingers. 

Jenkins  looked  shocked  and  his  arms  remained 
rigidly  down. 

"Oh,"  I  said,  polishing  my  glass,  "the  gentleman 
• — is  he  one  of  my — " 

"It  ain't  a  gentleman,  sir," — Jenkins  got  it  out 
with  difficulty ;  "it's  only  just — er — a  person !" 

"Eh  ?  Oh,  I  say,  now,  Jenkins !"  I  protested. 

"A  person  from  the —  '  Jenkins  blinked.  "In  fact, 
a  police  person —  '  his  chin  went  up  and  he  so  far 
forgot  himself  as  to  indulge  in  a  sniff — "come  to 
see  you  about — "  his  eyebrows  angled  a  lofty  pro 
test  at  the  housekeeper's  strained  poise — "h'm — to 
see  you  about — you  know!" 

I  was  dashed  if  I  knew — but  not  so  Miss  War- 
field!  She  gave  a  sudden  gasp  and  whirled  herself 
in  front  of  me,  hands  up  and  clasped  like  the  other 
woman  in  a  jolly  play  you  know. 

"Oh,  sir !"  she  tremuloed,  "Please — please — " 


256         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Eh?"  I  said  in  alarm  and  stepping  back,  for, 
dash  it,  /  didn't  know  what  she  wanted ;  and  for  a 
moment  I  had  an  awful  thought  she  wanted  me  to — 
you  know!  But  the  next  second,  I  had  her  right. 

"Urn !"  I  said,  tightening  my  lips.  "Well,  I'll  see!" 
And  she  looked  so  white — white  as  the  driven 
what's-its-name,  you  know — that  I  felt  my  devilish 
heart  go  out  to  her  a  bit.  "All  right,"  I  added  sooth 
ingly,  "you  just  go  on  about  your  duties  and  sit 
tight,  you  know,  and  I'll  see  if  I  can — er — fix 
things !" 

And,  by  Jove,  I  got  past  just  in  time  to  keep  her 
from  catching  my  hand  and  wringing  herself  over  it. 

"What  the  deuce — "  I  began  outside,  as  Jenkins 
steered  me  toward  the  porte-cochere. 

He  looked  warily  at  the  footman  waiting  to  serve 
us  at  the  door — dashed  if  he  didn't  almost  lay  his 
hand  on  my  arm ! 

Then,  behind  his  hand :  "It's  about  the  pajamas, 
sir!" 

"Eh?"  I  gasped,  falling  back. 

He  stooped  after  me  and  his  breath  tickled  my 
ear: 

"Hers,  sir !    You  know,  that  night — h'm !" 

"Oh!"  I  said  faintly.  And  this  time  he  did  catch 
my  arm,  and  I  was  devilish  glad,  by  Jove ! 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

I    RECOVER    THE    PAJAMAS 


swinging  his  club  and  kicking  his 
heel  in  the  macadam,  I  found  a  fat  policeman 
—  from  New  York,  I  knew  by  his  helmet. 

He  turned  and  I  saw  —  O'Keefe! 

"Oh,  there  you  are,  sir!"  And  with  a  careless 
duck  and  a  wave,  he  ambled  forward  and  placed  in 
my  hands  a  parcel. 

"It's  them,  all  right!"  he  said  with  a  fat  wink. 
"The  black  silk  pajamas  —  we  got  'em,  you  see  !" 

"Jove!"  I  ejaculated,  staring.  Then  suddenly  I 
got  the  jolly  idea  full  and  strong,  you  know,  and  I 
was  just  so  dashed  relieved  and  delighted,  I  shook 
hands  with  him  —  fact  ! 

"Oh,  I  say,  Jenkins,"  I  remarked,  twisting  my 
glass  at  him,  "by  Jove,  you  know  —  eh  ?" 

"Certainly,  sir!"  Jenkins  admitted  calmly.  "I 
knew  in  a  minute  soon  as  he  told  me!" 

And,  by  Jove,  I  believed  him  !  Had  to,  you  know  ; 
it  was  only  just  one  instance  of  the  devilish  clever, 
intuitive  way  Jenkins  had  of  boring  into  things  ! 

"Yes,  sir,"  —  O'Keefe  thoughtfully  transferred  a 
big  wad  to  the  other  cheek  —  "the  captain  gave  me  a 

257 


258         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

little  lay  off  so's  I  could  bring  'em  up," — he  studied 
with  interest  the  top  of  one  of  the  pillars  of  the 
porte-cochere  and  shrugged  lightly — "of  course  it 
wasn't  just  because  of  the  reward,  though  of  course 
five  hundred  bucks  is  five  hundred  bucks,  but  we 
thought  you  might  like  to  have  'em — thank  you, 
sir!"  For  out  of  my  folder  I  peeled  five  crisp  cen 
turies  and  laid  them  in  his  palm. 

This  done,  Jenkins  glanced  at  me  and  turned  sug 
gestively  toward  the  entrance,  but  O'Keefe  didn't 
make  a  move  to  go  and  no  more  did  I.  Fact  was,  I 
had  a  devilish  keen  notion  that  the  old  cat  up-stairs 
would  be  watching  for  the  policeman's  departure 
through  the  grounds,  and  it  came  to  me  that  to  play 
him  a  little  longer  wouldn't  do  any  harm,  but  might 
seal  her  jolly  mouth  the  tighter. 

O'Keefe  thanked  me  again.  "You're  sure  solid 
with  the  force,  sir,"  he  assured,  nodding  earnestly. 
"Just  remember  my  number  and  the  name  of  Captain 
Clutchem  if  any  time  in  town  you  get  rounded  up 
in  any  of  our  little — er,  you  know!" — he  dropped  a 
cheerful  wink  at  me  and  glanced  again  at  the  bills. 
"Expect  maybe  you're  anxious  to  know  if  Tim  gets 
a  divy  outer  this,"  he  proceeded;  and  I  murmured 
some  jolly  something.  Of  course,  I  wasn't  anxious, 
you  know ;  fact  is,  I  didn't  care  a  dash — didn't  even 
remember  who  Tim  was.  "Yes,  siree,  he'll  get  ten  of 
this !"  he  finished  impressively. 

Meantime,  he  had  been  hunching  himself  up  until 
now  he  succeeded  in  wrenching  from  somewhere  be- 


I    RECOVER    THE    PAJAMAS        259 

hind,  a  ragged  and  shiny  old  wallet,  bulging  with 
worn  and  greasy  papers.  Within  this,  with  a  flour 
ish,  he  laid  the  bills. 

Then  he  faced  us  with  an  air  of  increased  cheer 
fulness. 

"So  much  all  for  the  velvet!"  he  remarked  with 
another  wink. 

Of  course  it  was  of  no  importance  to  set  him  right 
about  the  material ;  as  for  that,  I  didn't  care  a  jolly 
hang  if  he  thought  they  were  made  of  linoleum! 
But  it  gave  me  the  idea  of  just  peeking  into  a  corner 
of  the  parcel  to  satisfy  myself  that  its  contents  were 
of  filmy  black  silk — and  they  were!  I  went  no  fur 
ther;  not  for  all  the  gold  of  what's-its-name  would 
I  have  profaned  the  package  with  further  investiga 
tion. 

"Why,  sir,  I  don't  think  you  need  be  worrying 
but  what  they're  all  right,"  and  the  big  policeman 
nodded  confidently;  "in  fact  there  don't  seem  to  be 
no  damage  at  all."  He  added  meditatively :  "Which 
is  some  wonder,  considering  how  we  had  to  rough- 
house  Foxy  Grandpa  before  we  softened  him  down 
in  his  cell  th'  other  night."  Here  his  cheeks  swelled 
and  he  sent  a  long  sheaf  of  brown  liquid  at  a  grass 
hopper  on  the  freshly  whitened  door-stones — and 
got  it,  too,  neatly  missing  the  polished  toe  of  Jen- 
kins'  boot.  "No,  sir!" — emphatically — "I  don't 
think  you'll  be  hearing  any  holler  from  your  lady 
friend  when  she  goes  to — eh,  what?"--  he  stared  at 
Jenkins  blankly,  for  Jenkins  had  coughed — "Oh, 


260         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

excuse  me!" — and  his  big  hand  lifted  apologetically 
to  his  mouth,  while  his  eyes  rolled  upward — "What 
I  just  meant  was  that  I  know  they're  all  to  the  good ; 
I  went  all  over  'em !" 

"Oh!"  I  muttered,  turning  rather  faint.  I  dropped 
the  parcel  and  Jenkins  picked  it  up.  By  Jove,  for  a 
moment,  he  came  jolly  near  having  to  pick  me  up, 
too,  I  was  that  shocked  and  prostrated ! 

"The  only  thing — the  only  thing  'tall—  I  had 
to  wait  through  an  agonizing  moment  while  his 
tongue  gathered  his  wad  and  peremptorily  expelled 
it,  this  time  enlivening  the  cold,  dead  monotony  of 
the  silver-gray  macadam — "was  her — I  mean,  was 
the  pants." 

"Ah-h !"  I  put  my  hand  to  my  side  and  looked  at 
Jenkins  appealingly,  but  he  was  looking  upward,  his 
eyes  kind  of  cast  over  like  a  bird's;  the  lines  of  his 
mouth  tightened  to  an  arch — and  I  knew  he  was 
suffering  too!  But  we  must  try  to  stand  it  a  little 
longer — just  a  little ! 

Through  one  instant's  respite,  Mr.  O'Keefe's 
thick  tongue  was  occupied  in  striving  to  glutenize 
the  entire  wrapper  of  a  much  crushed  and  awfully 
yellow  cigar.  Then  he  separated  a  mouthful  from 
the  end  and  proceeded  : 

"I  did  notice  with  the  legs,  that  one  of  'em  was 
just  a  bit  longer  than  th'  other,  and  down  at  the 
station  we  was  a  wondering  if—  "  the  brown  head 
of  a  crackling  match  drew  a  long,  curving  what-you- 
call-it  on  the  smooth,  creamy  masonry,  and  he 


I    RECOVER   THE    PAJAMAS        261 

paused  to  pump  madly,  striving  to  coax  a  draft  of 
smoke — "we  wondered  if  'twas — intentional.'3  His 
eyes  sought  mine  inquiringly. 

By  Jove,  I  was  so  frozen  with  horror,  I  couldn't 
even  look  away;  just  stood  there,  helpless,  you 
know,  and  my  jolly  monocle  hanging  limp — couldn't 
have  lifted  it  to  have  saved  my  life!  Felt  my  senses 
just  growing  numb  all  the  while  with  the  tragedy 
of  the  thing,  the  thought  of  this  coarse  monster's 
touch  defiling  the  dainty,  gossamer  garment  that  had 
shrouded  her  sacred  what-you-call-'ems — Oh,  it  was 
awful! 

I  wondered  if  the  housekeeper  could  be  looking 
still  from  her  tower,  like  Sister  Anne  in  the  story 
of  what's-his-name !  Perhaps,  if  I  could,  I  would 
better  hold  out  just — 

"Um — ah,  I  see!  It  was,  then!" — he  was  nod 
ding  with  an  air  of  understanding,  pausing  in  the 
struggle  with  the  refractory  cigar.  His  strained  and 
reddened  face  shaped  sympathetically.  "Just  what  / 
thought  and  told  'em!"  he  bobbed  with  satisfaction. 
"7  understand!  You  ain't  got  no  need  to  make  no 
explanations  to  me!"  and  he  lifted  his  fat  hand  to 
restrain  them.  "Why,  my  wife's  own  grandmother 
had  a  club  foot,  and  to  her  last  day  if  she  got  outer 
bed  on  the  wrong  side,  the  old  lady  went  a  header 
sure — oh,  I  know !" 

A  moment  before,  I  had  thought  that  so  far  as- 
the  mere  matter  of  jolly  misery  was  concerned,  I 
had  sounded  the  what-you-call-'ems;  but  now  my 


262          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

dashed  brain  was  reeling  before  this  new  horror! 
To  think  that  she  was — but  oh,  it  couldn't  be !  And 
yet  I  recalled  ominously  that  most  of  the  time  I  had 
known  her,  I  had  only  seen  her  sitting! 

Mr.  O'Keefe  exerted  another  vain  pull  at  his 
cigar  and  poised  it  critically  between  his  fingers. 
"I  don't  seem  to  make  this  piece  of  rope  go,"  he  re 
marked  superfluously,  and  I  thought  his  eye  cut  me 
with  a  mild  reproach.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but 
take  the  hint  and  produce  my  case — just  refilled  in 
my  room  with  Paloma  perfectos.  Oh,  I  was  glad  to 
do  it,  by  Jove! — glad  to  be  able  to  do  it — devilish 
glad  to  find  I  wasn't  paralyzed,  I  mean! 

"Why,  thanks!"  His  fingers  only  removed  three 
cigars,  but  I  just  made  him  take  them  all !  Oh,  yes, 
for  the  case  would  have  to  be  refilled  now,  anyhow, 
dash  it ! 

"By-y-y  the  way,  sir!"  He  closed  one  eye  at  me 
as  he  carved  from  the  brown  beauty  a  half  inch  of 
its  waxy  bud,  using  for  the  maltreatment  a  per 
fectly  brutal  knife.  "That  was  a  neat  try-on  you 
made  to  copper  the  thief  yourself — a  Icetle  irregu 
lar,  you  know,"  he  shook  his  head  at  me,  "but,  as 
the  captain  said,  we  ain't  making  no  point  about 
that  with  a  gent  like  you — sure  not !" — another  im 
perishable  line  of  beauty  upon  the  receptive  stone, 
and  he  puffed  inhalations  of  joy.  "But  I  knew  you 
never  could  get  him  to  the  station — I  could  have  told 
you." 

"Oh!"  I  remarked,  puzzled.    By  Jove,  I  had  a 


I    RECOVER   THE    PAJAMAS        263 

dashed  awful  thought  for  a  moment  that  I  must  be 
losing  my  intelligence!  I  looked  at  Jenkins  again, 
but  he  had  not  yet  come  back  to  the  ground. 

"Oh,  I'm  on,  sir!"  Another  one  of  those  awful 
winks  as  his  club  scratched  his  helmet  sideways. 
"You  know  I  saw  everything — I  was  right  there  at 
the  Kahoka,  you  know !" 

"Oh,  that!"  I  said,  understanding.  For  I  knew 
then  that  he  was  talking  about  Foxy  Grandpa  in  my 
rooms.  I  had  almost  forgotten  the  jolly  old  vaga 
bond,  but  it  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  I  ought  to 
show  some  interest  as  they  must  have  recaptured 
him  along  with  the  pajamas.  "I  say!"  I  chirped  up, 
"did  you  have  much  trouble  about  it — getting  him 
again,  you  know?" 

"Trouble?"  O'Keefe's  lip  doubled  contemptu 
ously.  "It  was  easy  as  butter!"  His  hand  spread, 
palm  downward,  in  an  expressive  gesture.  "Why,  he 
doubled  right  back  to  the  Kahoka !" 

"By  Jove,  you  know !"  I  exclaimed,  startled. 

"Surest  thing  you  know !  I  collared  him  right  in 
front  and  with  the  goods!"  Mr.  O'Keefe  expecto 
rated  eloquently.  "My,  but  he  did  put  up  an  awful 
holler — said  the  pajamas  were  his  own  and  he  had 
just  had  'em  made.  And  bluff — well!" — he  fanned 
the  air  for  a  moment  in  the  effort  to  find  an  appro 
priate  gesture — "I'm  used  to  these  swell  con  men, 
but  that  gun  was  the  limit — pulled  out  a  card  case, 
mind  you,  and  letters,  and  wanted  me  to  go  with 
him  to  his  club — his  club —  "  the  big  fellow  doubled 


264         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

over  in  a  spasm  of  mirth  that  all  but  choktd  him. 
"I  told  him  I'd  give  him  the  club  if  he  dHn't  go 
quietly — for  you  see  I  recognized  him  in  a  minute; 
you  can't  lose  them  freak  kind !  Besides,  he  give 
himself  away:  told  me  he'd  overlook  my  conduct 
on  this  occasion  and  the  other,  if  I  would  release 
him.  Well,  that  was  enough!  I  beckoned  Jimmy 
Dwyer  across  and  we  run  him  down  the  line  to  the 
station.  Oh,  we  got  him  there,  but  it  wasn't  easy — 
for  him!  And  there  he'll  stay  a  while!" 

He  had  to  pause  and  pump  air,  he  was  so  winded. 

"Jove!"  I  said  absently.  Fact  is,  I  was  getting 
jolly  tired  standing  so  long — never  had  stood  so 
long  that  I  could  remember.  Wondered  if  the  house 
keeper  wasn't  getting  tired,  too,  wherever  she  was 
watching  from !  Better  give  her  a  few  minutes  more, 
though;  so  I  shifted  to  the  other  leg,  but  yawned 
comfortably  and  openly.  As  for  Jenkins,  he  had 
just  frozen  up  like  a  jolly  image,  his  eyes  getting 
filmier  and  duller  as  O'Keefe  proceeded,  his  chin 
gradually  working  higher  and  his  mouth  corners 
lower,  until  now  they  almost  pointed  to  the  ground. 
He  was  impressive  and  devilish  correct,  but  some 
how  the  whole  dashed  thing  seemed  lost  on  O'Keefe. 

He  even  asked  Jenkins  for  a  match — but  of  course 
received  no  attention.  "Gone  off  in  a  trance!"  he 
said  to  me,  with  a  vulgar  jerk  of  his  fat  thumb.  And 
then  he  touched  Jenkins  with  his  stick — fact; 
touched  him ! — and  winked ! 

"But  it  woulder  tickled  you,"  he  resumed,  using 


I    RECOVER   THE    PAJAMAS        265 

one  of  the  vestas  I  extended  and  puffing  the  cigar 
until  it  almost  flamed,  "if  you  coulder  seen  the 
grand-stand  play  this  guy  put  up  before  the  ser 
geant  !  But  the  old  man  just  let  him  blow  it  all  off ; 
just  sat  there  calm  behind  the  desk,  chewing  away 
and  jabbing  a  pen  through  the  blotter,  while  this  stiff 
fumed  and  spouted — oh,  something  scandalous — 
bringing  in  the  names  of  mighty  near  all  the  impor 
tant  people  in  New  York ;  his  friends,  he  said !  Oh, 
yes,  he  mentioned  you  in  particular,  sir!" — and  his 
face  expanded  in  a  relishing  grin. 

"Dashed  impudence !"  I  murmured  feebly. 

"Oh,  yes/'  carelessly,  "but  the  sarge  quieted  him 
—just  purty  near  soothed  him  to  sleep  before  he  got 
through,  you  know — it's  one  of  his  ways!" — his 
glance  lifted  solemnly. 

"Fine,  you  know !"  I  murmured  admiringly.  I  re 
flected  approvingly  upon  what  a  dashed  good  thing 
it  was  to  have  a  man  in  that  position — whatever  it 
was — who  was  of  such  a  devilish  mild  and  gentle 
temperament :  the  quiet  word — the  soft  answer — the 
kindly  remonstrance — all  that  sort  of  thing,  you 
know. 

"We're  a  leetle  crowded  now,"  the  big  cop  pur 
sued,  reflectively  gouging  into  the  mortar  with  the 
long  blade  of  his  knife,  "and  we  had  to  put  him  in 
the  cell  with  a  gorilla  what's  always  wandering  back 
to  the  jungle  for  too  much  strong-arm  work — maybe 
you  read  about  him?  He  scragged  a  whole  family 
th'  other  night  and  threw  'em  down  the  fire-escape." 


266         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Oh !"  I  said  uneasily.  "But  isn't  he — er — rather 
dangerous?" 

"Nazv!"  A  careless  but  vigorous  head  shake. 
"Only  in  his  sleep,  you  know — it's  his  dreams  leads 
him  off — or  unless  some  one  touches  or  crowds  him ; 
then  he  gets  peevish  and — oh,  well  he  might,  of 
course — "  Mr.  O'Keefe's  expressive  shrug  finished 
out  the  idea.  But  I  wouldn't  have  heard  it  anyhow, 
I  was  in  such  a  yawn. 

By  Jove,  I  was  sure  the  housekeeper  would  have 
chucked  it  by  now,  or  else  worked  herself  up  into  a 
swoon!  Why,  my  jolly  foot  was  asleep!  It  was  safe 
to  let  him  go.  I  looked  at  my  watch  and  coughed, 
and  Jenkins  came  to  and  backed  up  to  the  door, 
sidling  for  me  to  pass  within.  The  policeman 
straightened  his  helmet  and  murmured  words  of 
adieu. 

"But,  if  no  offense,  there's  just  one  question  I'd 
like  to  ask  you,  sir."  He  swung  his  club  with  a  smil 
ing,  genial  air. 

"Oh,  dash  it,  no!"  I  responded  absently. 

My  eye  had  been  suddenly  attracted  by  a  feathery 
gleam  of  white  through  the  trees.  It  was  slowly 
moving  up  the  slope  to  a  pavilion  overlooking  the 
Tappan  Zee. 

He  drew  nearer  with  a  confidential  air.  "Just  a 
little  argument  I  had  with  the  old  woman,  you 
know,  about  them  pajamas.  Would  you  mind  tell 
ing  me — as  man  to  man,  y 'understand — if  them 
garments  is" — his  voice  dropped — "is  like  her  real 


I    RECOVER    THE    PAJAMAS        267 

shape — figger,  I  mean — h'm?"  And  he  tapped  the 
parcel  lightly  with  his  stick. 

Jenkins  cleared  his  throat  loudly  and  shifted  the 
pajamas  to  his  other  side.  As  for  myself,  I  just 
winced  as  under  the  stroke  of  a  what-you-call-it,  but 
one  end  of  my  dashed  brain  was  being  pulled  by  the 
flashing  play  of  the  dappling  sunlight  there  upon — 

"By  Jove,  her  figure  exactly !"  I  ejaculated,  star 
ing. 

For  it  was  her — no,  dash  it,  she,  I  mean !  I  had 
a  perfectly  clear  view  of  her  now  as  she  paused 
on  a  little  point  and  hung  there  looking  out  over  the 
Hudson.  In  her  hand  was  a  full-blown,  ripened 
rose,  and  her  lips  were  shaping  in  ravishing  little 
pouts  as  musingly  she  blew  the  petals  from  her.  But 
go  they  would  not,  but  hugged  back  in  the  arms  of 
the  light  breeze,  circling  and  fluttering  about  her 
glorious  sunny  head  like  a  swarm  of  rosy  butter 
flies.  It  made  a  pretty  picture ! 

"And  what's  more,  they're  just  her  color,  too!" 
I  murmured  tenderly,  forgetful  of  everything  but 
her,  unmindful  that  I  was  not  alone.  For  under  my 
hand  I  could  feel  my  jolly  heart  quivering  like  a 
champagne  cork,  freshly  unfettered  and  thrilling 
eagerly  under  the  impulse  of  the  mad,  dancing,  joy 
ous  spirit  within. 

"The  one  lovely  woman  in  all  the  world!"  I 
breathed  aloud,  and  I  felt  my  eyes  grow  oddly 
moist. 

And  for  a  minute  I  went  off  in  a  jolly  trance. 


268         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Good-by,  sir!" 

It  was  O'Keefe's  voice — oddly  constrained. 

"Eh?"  I  ejaculated,  blinking  at  him  as  I  came 
back.  Then  I  remembered — but  what  was  it  he 
had  been  asking?  Something — 

"Just,  good-by!"  he  repeated  with  elaborated 
gentleness.  Then,  straightening:  "No  offense,  I 
hope,  if  we  let  it  go  at  that — I  mean,  I  guess  you 
won't  miss  it  if  we  don't  shake  hands?" 

I  glanced  at  the  gloves  he  was  drawing  on. 

"Oh,  dash  it,  no!"  I  responded  absently,  and  my 
eyes  coasted  up  the  slope  again — then  dropped  back 
disappointedly,  for  she  had  disappeared  within  the 
pavilion. 

"Of  course,  rich  people  has  got  privileges,"  Mr. 
O'Keefe  was  ruminating  somberly;  "and  I  ain't 
saying  a  word,  not  a  word,  mind  you!" — the  glove 
that  lightly  emphasized  this  displayed  all  fingers 
widely  and  generously  spread.  "The  captain'll  tell 
you  he  ain't  having  to  tell  me,  like  some  of  'em,  to 
be  careful  about  keeping  off  the  grass" — he  shrugged 
—"oh,  well,  perhaps  enough  said !" — and  he  turned 
away. 

Then  he  turned  back.  "Of  course,  that  other 
part  of  it" — it  would  seem  that  his  club,  extended 
pistol-like,  was  not  leveled  at  Jenkins  so  much  as 
at  the  pajamas — "of  course,  nobody  can't  help  that 
—that's  Nature — I'm  some  that  way  myself,  though 
nothing  like  so  much,  and  nothing  like  so  heavy  as 
I  was.  We'll  leave  that  part  out  of  it — I'm  willing 


I   RECOVER   THE    PAJAMAS        269 

—but,  gentlemen" — Jenkins  paled,  and  swayed  so 
horribly,  I  was  almost  sure  he  would  go — "when  it 
comes  to —  comes  to —  '  With  a  helpless  head-shake, 
he  gave  it  up  and  contented  himself  with  expecto 
rating  violently  upon  the  ground.  Then  he  moved 
slowly  away. 

His  helmet  tossed  as  he  looked  back.  "I  guess 
we  a//'ve  got  our  little  prejudices,"  he  remarked 
sententiously;  "I  know  /  have!  I'm  from  the 
South!" 

And  without  another  word,  Mr.  O'Keefe  pre 
sented  his  broad  back  to  us,  and  swinging  his  stick 
carelessly,  sauntered  down  the  drive. 

"What  the  deuce!"  I  exclaimed,  looking  after 
him.  "I  say,  Jenkins,  what  did  he  mean  ?" 

Jenkins'  face  expressed  mild  reproach  and  sur 
prise. 

"Can  it  possibly  matter,  sir?"  he  questioned 
wearily.  "Persons  of — er — that  sort,  you  know, 
sir?" 

"Jove!"  I  uttered,  relieved. 

Jenkins'  coldly  elevated  brows  dismissed  the  mat 
ter  from  further  consideration.  He  lifted  the  par 
cel  with  a  slight  gesture  of  inquiry. 

I  had  already  come  to  a  decision  about  it:  I 
would  send  it  to  Billings!  Perhaps  the  retrieving 
of  the  pajamas  would  have  a  soothing  effect  upon 
his  poor  mind ! 

I  gave  Jenkins  instructions.  "H'm!  Of  course, 
manage  to  speak  with  him  alone,"  I  cautioned,  hav- 


2/0 

ing  thought  of  Judge  Billings;  "and  don't  forget 
the  message." 

"Certainly,  sir,"  said  Jenkins  attentively.  "I'm 
just  to  say:  'Mr.  Lightnut's  compliments,  sir,  and 
he  says  you'll  know  what  to  do  with  these.' ' 

I  nodded.  "Exactly,  and  I'll  wait  here — but,  oh, 
hurry,  dash  it!"  And  I  looked  longingly  at  the 
pavilion  and  tried  to  feel  if  my  part  was  right. 

He  did  hurry !  By  Jove,  he  was  back  almost  im 
mediately  and  looking  a  bit  rattled. 

"Yes,  sir!" — he  coughed  as  I  screwed  my  glass 
inquiringly — "I  got  there  just  as  the  judge  went 
into  his  room  across  the  corridor,  and  Mr.  Billings 
opened  the  door  the  minute  I  said  I  was  from  you. 
I  gave  him  the  package  and  the  message  and  he  took 
it  over  in  a  corner;  and  then  in  about  a  minute  I 
heard  him  chuck  it  somewhere  and  say  some  long 
word.  He  came  back  to  me,  looking  kinder  irri 
tated  and  with  his  eyes  snapping." 

"Oh!"  I  uttered  nervously.  "Er,  what  did  he 
say,  Jenkins?" 

Jenkins  sighed.  "Oh,  well,  sir,  nothing  as  you 
might  say  was  anything,  really;  he  jerks  out  kinder 
crossly:  'Tell  Mr.  Lightnut,  I  say  one  thing  at  a 
time,  and  give  him  this !' ' 

On  the  scrap  of  paper  I  clutched  out  of  Jenkins' 
hand  was  a  crazy  scrawl  of  just  a  half-dozen  words: 

I'm  a  biped,  not  a  centipede! 

I  squinted  through  the  dashed  thing  twice,  but 


I    RECOVER   THE    PAJAMAS        271 

could  make  nothing  of  it — I  even  tried  it  back 
ward! 

"Jove!"  I  muttered  perplexedly.  "It's  rum,  Jen 
kins!" 

Jenkins'  mouth  tightened  and  relaxed.  "H'm, 
what  I  thought,  sir,"  he  responded  soberly.  "The 
demon  rum,  sir!" 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 
"T  EVER  i  FIND  A  MAN!" 

TRUST  you've  not  been  getting  into  trouble, 
Mr.  Lightnut!" 

Her  lovely  eyes  were  dancing  with  mischief  as 
they  hung  there  below  mine — eyes,  bluer  than  the 
Hudson  at  our  feet;  yet  between  the  jolly  ripples 
that  played  across  those  pools  of  truth  I  could 
glimpse  far  down  into  depths  that  were  the  most 
devilishly  entrancing,  darkly,  deeply,  beautifully — 
oh,  you  know ! 

Why,  by  Jove,  I  almost  took  a  cropper  right  into 
them!  Only  caught  just  in  time,  you  know; 
straightened  right  on  the  verge,  as  it  were — and 
came  up  with  a  gasp,  monocle  dangling. 

Had  almost  forgotten  the  dashed  windows — and 
the  two  cats  that  might  be  looking  out ! 

I  murmured  some  jolly  apology,  adding : 

"Oh,  yes — quite  so;  certainly!  I  mean — el\ 
what?" 

She  was  smiling,  her  rose-petal  lip  dragging 
through  her  teeth. 

"The  'bobby,'  you  know,  just  now" — she  nodded 
toward  the  porte-cochere — "I  was  positive  he  had 

272 


IF    I    EVER    FIND    A    MAN!         273 

come  to  drag  you  away  to  your  loathsome  dun 
geon.  And  when  he  retired,  I  was — oh,  so  re 
lieved  !"  And  she  clasped  her  hands,  her  eyes  lift 
ing  upward. 

"Oh,  I  say  now — were  you,  though  ?"  I  grinned 
delightedly  and  slipping  to  a  rustic  chair  beside  her, 
looked  her  affectionately  in  the  eye.  For  all  her 
air  of  chaffing,  I  knew  that  under  it  was  a  current 
of  anxiety  for  me — the  darling! 

I  screwed  my  glass  at  her  tenderty. 

"What  would  you  have  done,"  I  said  softly,  "if 
he  had — er — lugged  me  off,  you  know  ?" 

"Can  you  ask?"  What  a  reproachful  side-glance 
she  shot  me  through  the  meshes  of  her  silken  what- 
you-call-'ems !  "Why,  of  course,  I  should  have 
drawn  my  good  excalibar  and  run  him  thr-r-rough 
and  thr-r-r-ough !" 

By  Jove,  how  she  said  it!  And  she  illustrated 
with  the  stemless  rose — dash  it,  no;  the  roseless 
stem!  She  was  superb — looked  like  the  jolly  fenc 
ing  girl;  only  a  dashed  sight  more  stunning,  don't 
you  know!  And  her  excalibar,  too!  Didn't  know 
what  a  jolly  excalibar  was,  but  guessed  it  was  some 
delightfully  mysterious  but  deadly  feminine  thing — 
some  kind  of  submerged  hat-pin-sort-of-thing,  you 
know — that  sort,  dash  it !  Yet  she  would  have 
drawn  it — and  her  good  one,  too,  she  said ! 

"Jove!"  I  said  feelingly.  "Would  you,  really?" 
And  I  almost  took  her  hand — and  again  remem 
bered  the  windows !  So  I  just  shot  her  a  look. 


274         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

Her  glorious  eyes  sparkled.  "That  is,  I  would 
if  I  had  one,"  she  said  smiling;  "but  I'm  afraid  poor 
Arthur  lost  the  last  and  only  one.  Sad,  isn't  it?" 

"Oh!" 

I  just  felt  my  jolly  heart  sink  like  what's-its- 
name.  Who  the  deuce  was  "poor  Arthur?"  This 
must  be  another — some  other  thundering  chap  who 
had  been  engaged  to  her.  And  what  a  rotten,  care 
less  beggar,  too,  to  have  lost  it — that  is,  if  he  really 
had !  Of  course,  he  would  say  so,  anyhow.  And 
how  the  deuce  did  he  get  it,  in  the  first  place — did 
she  give  it  to  him,  or  did  he — 

By  Jove,  how  I  should  have  liked  to  punch  Ar 
thur's  head!  Always  did  hate  a  chap  with  that 
name!  I  flushed  guiltily,  but  she  did  not  see.  For 
the  moment,  she  was  looking  off  dreamily  across  the 
valley. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said  pensively,  "why  it  is  one 
can  never  find  another  man  like  Arthur.  Do  you 
suppose  it  is  because  he  was  the  ideal?" 

For  an  instant,  I  swallowed  bard — then  I  plucked 
up  bravely,  or  tried  to,  doni  you  know. 

"Jolly  likely!"  I  chirped.  Then  gloomily:  "Oh, 
I  say,  you  know,  was  he  your  ideal?" 

"Always!" — the  blue  eyes  lighted  wistfully — "I 
suppose  it's  because  he  was  my  first  love;  I  found 
him  so  brave,  so  noble-mannered,  you  know — so 
simple !" 

Simple!    Dash  simple  people — never  could  stand 


IF    I    EVER    FIND    A    MAN!         275 

them !  Thing  I  admired  was  brains !  Aloud  I  said 
gently — almost  humbly  : 

"So  glad  you  like  him,  don't  you  know — did  like, 
I  mean!" 

"Did  like?  I  do  still!" — her  tone  lifted  in  ear 
nest  protest — "I  love  to  think  of  brave,  dear  Arthur 
and  his  knights — so  few,  and  yet  so  full  of  love,  of 
gallantry  and  daring!" 

So  his  nights  were  like  that!  By  Jove,  I  was 
devilish  glad  then  that  they  had  been  so  few — that 
was  some  comfort,  dash  it !  I  wondered  if  the  beg 
gar  was  dead.  But  what  difference  did  it  make 
now,  after  all?  She  was  mine  now  and  she  knew 
I  knew  it ;  that  was  why  this  sweet,  ingenuous  child 
was  laying  bare  to  me  her  past — the  darling ! 

Really,  I  ought  not  to  let  her  go  on. 

"Never  mind  them  now,"  I  urged  soothingly.  And 
heedless  of  the  windows,  I  hitched  a  wee  bit  closer. 
"That's  all  past  and  gone  and  you  and  I  will  yet  see 
as  good  nights  as  they  ever  were."  I  spoke  with 
assurance.  "Don't  you  think  so?"  I  added  softly. 

She  sighed.  "I  don't  know — I  hope  so!" — she 
lingered  dubiously  over  it,  looking  away  again,  the 
while  her  hand  put  back  the  fleecy,  golden  what- 
you-call-it  that  was  snuggling  to  her  eyes.  I  looked 
at  the  goddess-like  forearm,  bared  to  above  the  el 
bow,  where  it  slipped  from  sight  under  the  roll  of 
sleeve,  and  thought  of  that  night  in  my  apartment 
when  she  had  made  me  feel  of  her  biceps,  don't  you 
know. 


276         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

How  deliciously  shy  she  was!  Remembered 
hearing  Pugsley  say  they  are  often  that  way  with 
the  development  of  love.  Told  me  he  thought  he'd 
get  married  once — looked  over  the  girls  of  his  set 
and  picked  out  one;  then  he  went  to  see  her.  She 
was  devilish  cordial  at  first  and  until  Pugsley  began 
to  tell  her  about  it,  then  she  began  to  grow  agitated 
— finally  went  out  of  the  room  and  had  hysterics. 
Next  time  he  saw  her  she  hardly  was  able  to  speak 
to  him!  Said  that  ended  it  and  he  passed  her  up — 
too  dashed  much  bother  trying  to  follow  'em,  he 
decided;  they  were  too  high-strung,  too  emotional, 
too  uncertain  of  themselves,  he  thought. 

I  gave  her  five  seconds,  and  then — 

"You  don't  know?"  I  repeated  with  gentle  re 
proach.  "Oh,  I  say,  you  know !  You  know  you 
know  you  know!"  By  Jove,  that  sounded  rather 
rum,  but  I  knew  she  knew  I  knew  she  knew — see? 

She  looked  at  me  sidewise,  her  slender  fore 
finger  pressing  the  half-parted  lips  slowly  shaping 
in  a  curve.  Then  her  little  teeth  flashed,  jewel-like 
— regular  jolly  pearl  setting  in  the  frankest,  sweet 
est  smile! — and  then  her  glorious  arm  and  wrist 
arched  suddenly  toward  me. 

"Yes !"  she  said  contritely,  and  with  the  most  de 
lightful,  kindest  inflection  and  laugh — such  a  laugh! 
— a  laugh  gurglingly  melodious — oh,  dash  it,  yes; 
I  mean  just  that ! — like  the  flute  notes  in  the  over 
ture  to  what's-his-name — that  sort ! 

"That's  the  way  I  love  to  hear  a  man  talk !"  she 


IF    I    EVER    FIND    A    MAN!         277 

said  warmly.  "I  think  it  takes  an  American  to 
stand  up  for  his  own  place,  his  own  times — please!" 

And  gently,  but  with  a  lovely  smile,  she  withdrew 
her  hand  that  I  had  folded  close  in  mine.  I  let  it 
go,  for  I  saw  her  look  toward  the  house,  and,  of 
course,  /  understood — jolly  careless  of  me  not  to 
have  remembered — but  she  would  know  from  my 
nod  and  shrug  that  I  comprehended. 

And  really,  by  Jove,  it  was  almost  as  pleasant  as 
holding  her  hand,  just  to  watch  her  leaning  back 
against  the  iron  pillar  about  which  curved  the  dark- 
leaved  tendrils  of  some  purple-flowering  vine.  By 
Jove,  she  just  looked  like  a  stunning,  white,  Easter- 
card  angel — that's  what! — even  to  the  golden  hair 
they  always  have  and  the  jolly  wings;  for  her 
gleaming  arms,  spread  behind  her  head,  made  you 
think  of  that.  But  that  was  as  near  as  one  of  them 
could  come  to  her,  for  no  golden-haired  angel  in 
white  flowing  nightgown  was  ever  a  patch  on  her 
tor  style! 

Never  a  one  could  look  so  chic  as  she  did 
in  her  smart  linen  suit,  with  its  blue  flannel  collar, 
caught  low  with  a  flowing,  breezy  tie ;  and  no 
jolly  angel  I  ever  saw  pictured  could  sport  a  waist 
like  that,  so  dainty,  so  modish,  so  jolly  snug  and — 
er — squeezable,  don't  you  know — never!  And  I 
was  devilish  sure  that  no  barefooted  or  sandaled 
angel  would  ever  dare  to  put  a  foot  beside  one  of 
those  little  white  Oxfords  or  that  arching  instep, 
just  blushing  faintly  through  the  silken  mesh  that 


278         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

held  it — well,  I  guess  not!  And  where  the  angel, 
I  should  like  to  know,  that  could  match  her  glori 
ous,  fluffy  pompadour  or  the  distracting  little  golden 
smoke  wisps  that  whirled  and  pulled  and  tangled 
and  tossed  and  twisted  and  tugged,  trying  to  lift 
her  in  their  feeble  arms  into  the  current  of  the 
wandering  breeze? 

I  sighed,  and  my  deep  breath  brought  her  gaze 
back  to  me  and  her  flashing  smile  as  well. 

"And  so,"  she  said,  lifting  her  little  chin,  "you 
think  there  are  just  as  many  knights  now  as  there 
used  to  be?" 

I  almost  laughed  at  the  child-like  question — but 
I  didn't !  Dash  it,  no,  I  wouldn't  have  done  so  for 
the  world.  Just  looked  at  her  seriously  and  an 
swered  her  in  kind: 

"Perfectly  sure  of  it,  don't  you  know !" 

And,  by  Jove,  I  was!  Knew  if  there  had  been 
any  change,  some  newspaper-reading  chap  at  the 
club  would  have  mentioned  it — that  was  safe ;  espe 
cially  one  silly  ass  who  was  always  reading  of  some 
jolly  comet  that  was  coming.  He  would  know 
about  the  nights. 

"Yes — oh,  yes,  there  are  just  as  many,"  I  af 
firmed  positively,  and  added  quickly:  "More,  you 
know!"  For  suddenly  I  remembered  it  was  leap- 
year,  and  I  knew  there  was  some  jolly  rhyme  about 
leap-year  gives  us  one  day  more — so,  of  course, 
there'd  be  another  night! 

"You  don't  know  how  glad  I  am  to  hear  you  say 


IF    I    EVER    FIND    A    MAN!         279 

that,"  she  said  musingly.  "There  are  just  as  many 
knights,  you  mean,  but  the  conditions  have  changed 
— the  man  is  changed — is  that  it  ?" 

I  should  say  the  man  was  changed !  "Oh,  dash 
it,  yes !"  I  blurted.  By  Jove,  I  hoped  there  wouldn't 
be  another  change. 

"You  mean" — with  a  little,  challenging,  puzzled 
smile,  she  leaned  forward,  her  elbow  resting  upon 
her  knee  like  a  sculptured,  Grecian  pillar;  her 
flower-like  curving  fingers  supporting  her  chin  like 
a  Corinthian  what's-its-name,  you  know,  the  sort 
of  thing  the  ancient  what-you-call-'ems  always 
added  to  top  off  their  stunning  marble  columns — 
you  know! — well,  like  that — "you  mean  we  may 
find  knights,  not  only  in  the  field,  but  in  the  shops, 
upon  the  streets — even  in  the  slums;  or  in  the  hos 
pitals,  in  the  church  or  even  on  the  bench — that  is 
your  idea  ?" 

It  wasn't  my  idea  at  all — I  should  say  not !  Who 
wanted  to  spend  nights  prowling  around  that  way? 
Why — why,  it  wasn't  respectable,  dash  it !  Besides, 
that  sort  of  thing — excursioning  about  seeing  things 
—was  devilish  tiresome,  if  you  asked  me.  I  never 
did  do  it,  even  abroad,  where  you  meet  Americans, 
jolly  bored  and  tired,  doing  all  sorts  of  rum  places 
no  one  else  ever  thinks  of,  don't  you  know. 

And  as  for  a  bench!  Well,  it  was  like  her,  in  her 
innocence  of  the  world,  not  to  know  how  downright 
vulgar  that  would  be.  I  had  seen  couples  sitting 
evenings  in  the  park — and  I  knew! 


28o         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

But  I  answered  tactfully : 

"I  don't  mean  those  places  so  much,  don't  you 
know — I  think  we  can  find  lots  jollier  and  better 
nights  elsewhere."  And  I  closed  my  free  eye  and 
beamed  at  her  through  my  glass.  "Don't  have  to 
go  so  far,  you  know ;  under  one's  own  roof,  or — er 
— some  one  else's  roof,  for  instance — why  not 
here?"  I  jerked  my  head  toward  the  old  stone  pile 
behind  us. 

"Oh!" — her  eyebrows  lifted  at  me — "so  you've 
thought  of  that,  too?" — she  nodded  gravely — "you 
mean  in  the  library  there?" 

I  winked  assent. 

The  library  suited  me  all  right ! 

"Just  now,"  she  said  in  an  oddly  sobered  voice, 
"I  looked  in  as  I  passed  through,  and  he  was  looking 
so  crushed,  so  worn  and  tired,  you  know — he  had 
just  come  from  up-stairs;  and  yet  he  faced  me  so 
bravely  and  smilingly" — she  shook  her  head — "poor 
fellow!" 

I  stared — puzzled,  don't  you  know.  Offhand, 
dash  me  if  I  could  see  what  the  judge  had  to  do  with 
our  evenings  together — why,  I  had  his  own  ap 
proval  of  my  suit.  Then  I  remembered  that  she, 
of  course,  didn't  know  that — yet.  Probably  what 
she  had  in  her  dear  little  mind  was  that  he  might 
be  holding  the  library — and  he  would,  if  he  con 
tinued  to  think  he  was  busy;  for  I  had  heard  him 
say  he  expected  to  work  all  night.  But  then,  there 


IF    I    EVER    FIND    A    MAN!         281 

were  dozens  and  dozens  of  others  places  we  could 
go — well,  I  should  just  say! 

I  had  just  bent  forward  to  suggest  this  to  her 
when  I  saw  she  was  going  to  speak.  So  I  waited, 
smiling  at  her  tenderly. 

"And  about  Arthur — "  she  began,  and  I  cut  my 
self  a  painful  stab  with  my  nails — right  in  the  palm 
— "now  there  is  a  case  where  I  think  you  find"- 
she  nodded  toward  the  house  again — "where  you 
find  one  of  his  superb  qualities,  the  one  quality  that, 
of  all,  I  admire  in  a  man  the  most." 

"By  Jove !"  I  said,  leaning  forward.  I  wondered 
what  it  was — and  then,  dash  it,  I  asked  her. 

"Just  trust!"  she  said  simply,  and  her  face  grew 
luminous.  "Faith,  perhaps  I  should  say.  My  father 
has  it  larger  than  any  man  I  ever  knew ;  it  is  some 
thing  that  goes  out  from  him  with  his  friendship, 
with  his  love,  making  a  dual  gift" — her  voice 
dropped  thoughtfully — "I  have  studied  it  in  him  all 
my  life,  and  it  has  always  seemed  so  beautiful  to 
me — so  wonderful — the  unquestioning  peace  he 
has" — her  blue  eyes  widened,  shining — "has  ever 
in  return  for  the  perfect,  abiding  trust  that  he  gives 
to  the  thing  he  calls  his  own.  I  know,  for  he  has 
made  me  feel  it  from  the  time  I  was  a  tiny  little 
girl !"  The  last  word  was  almost  a  whisper,  so 
tense,  so  vibrant  with  feeling  was  it — she  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  my  existence.  "And  if  ever  I 
find  a  man — "  she  breathed. 


282          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

I  coughed  slightly  and  she  started,  stared  at  me — 
and  then  the  dimple  deepened  in  her  cheek,  lost  in  a 
bed  of  jolly  roses.  Her  laughter  pealed  forth,  bird- 
like — delicious ! 

"I  beg  your  pardon!"  she  said.  "But  when  I 
think  of  papa  and  of  how  he  believes  in  his  children, 
especially  poor  little  me,  I  think  I  must  get —  Her 
roguish,  puzzled  smile  searched  my  face.  "How  is 
it  you  say  it  ? — oh,  I  know — 'I  think  I  must  be  get 
ting  dippy!'" 

And  it  was  the  first  slang  J  had  heard  from  those 
sweet  lips  since  the  night  she  was  in  my  rooms ! 


CHAPTER    XXIX 
"BECAUSE  YOU — ARE  YOU" 

T3OOR,  brave-hearted  girl!  How  pitiful  and 
heartrending  to  a  keen-eyed  man  of  the  world, 
seemed  her  poor,  little  sham  about  her  father's  trust 
in  her !  For  /  knew  the  facts,  you  know ! 

What  a  little  thorougbred  she  was!  By  Jove,  I 
just  sat  there  for  a  full  two  minutes,  bending  to 
ward  her  worshipfully,  but  with  such  a  lump  chok 
ing  my  devilish  throat  that  dash  me  if  I  could  chirp 
a  single  word.  Just  sat  there — that's  all — blinking 
damply  at  her  with  my  free  eye,  studying  with 
growing  wonder  the  light  she  managed  to  summon 
to  her  face ;  heartsick  for  the  care-free  mockery  of 
the  cherry  lips,  shaping  seemingly  in  a  meditative 
whistle;  all  my  jolly  heart  beating  time  to  the  lithe 
some  tapping  of  her  smart  little  boot  upon  the 
wooden  floor.  And  she?  She,  brave  heart,  lean 
ing  back  watching  me  through  her  long,  fringing 
lashes — forcing  a  quizzical  smile  to  her  face,  the 
while  the  jolly  worm  was  gnawing  at  her  what-you- 
call-'ems ! 

And  suddenly  it  came  to  me  that  I  just  couldn't 
and  wouldn't  let  her  go  on  this  way,  without  the 

283 


284         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

sympathy  of  the  man  she  loved;  without  the  pre 
cious  consolation  of  knowing  that  he  knew !  She 
was  being  badgered  and  rough-shouldered  and  put 
upon  and  distrusted  and  maligned  by  ever}-  one  she 
knew,  and  she  had  no  one  in  all  the  world  to  turn 
to  but  me — and — 

Oh,  I  wanted  her  to  know  what  /  thought,  don't 
you  know ! 

I  slipped  to  the  seat  beside  her. 

"Er,  Miss  Billings —  '  I  began,  thinking  absent- 
mindedly  of  what  I  should  say,  and  forgetting  that 
we  were  quite  alone. 

"'Miss  Billings!'  Why  do  you  call  me  that?" 
Her  lovely  brows  puckered.  "I  remember,  now, 
that's  twice  you — " 

"Frances,  then!"  I  corrected  softly. 

She  straightened,  her  bosom  lifting  with  a  quick 
intake.  By  Jove,  that  was  what  she  wanted ! 

"Oh!"  Then  she  leaned  slowly  back,  looking  at 
me  thoughtfully  through  half-closed  eyes,  her  lips 
parted  in  the  oddest  smile. 

And  I  screwed  my  monocle  tight  and  let  her  have 
smile  for  smile,  determined  to  chirp  her  up  and 
make  her  feel  our  oneness — that  sort  of  thing,  you 
know.  And  I  succeeded !  For  of  a  sudden  her  head 
went  back  and  the  joyous  peal  of  her  canary  laugh 
started  off  the  jolly  birds  in  the  trees  above  us. 

"Oh,  you — "  A  stare,  and  then  another  burst  as 
she  bent  forward,  face  buried  in  her  hands.  Then 
it  lifted  sharply,  flame-dyed — her  lips  tremulous, 


BECAUSE   YOU— ARE   YOU         285 

her  eyes  shining  like  sapphire  stars.  "Oh!"  she 
gasped,  and  how  I  envied  the  little  hand  she  pressed 
against  her  waist ;  but  the  windows — dash  the  win 
dows  !  "That's  —  that's  it  —  Frances  —  just  that 
much!  But,  do  you  know,  I  don't — don't  believe 
you  really  know  my  full  name.  I  remember  now 
several  th —  She  bent  toward  me  witchingly,  her 
wide  blue  eyes  challenging  my  candor.  "Honestly, 
now — do — you  ?" 

So  it  was  that  thought  that  was  tickling  her! 
Well,  by  Jove,  I  had  her  there,  for  I  had  heard 
the  judge  mention  her  name  in  full.  I  would  sur 
prise  her ! 

"Oh,  don't  I?"  I  exclaimed,  winking  as  I  pol 
ished  my  glass.  "Well,  how  about  Frances  Leslie 
Billings?"  I  let  her  have  it  slowly,  distinctly,  and 
with  yet  a  note  of  triumph  I  could  not  altogether 
hide.  And  then  remorseful  for  her  amazed  expres 
sion,  I  explained  frankly :  "Got  it  from  your  father 
this  morning,  don't  you  know,  during  our  long  talk 
about  you  in  the  library." 

"Wh— " 

Then  she  swallowed  and  her  face  fell  perfectly 
blank.  By  Jove,  I  could  have  kicked  myself  for  a 
jolly  ass  for  breaking  it  to  her  so  raw !  Of  course, 
she  would  know  that  if  her  father  talked  of  her,  it 
would  be  nothing  for  me  to  hear  that  was  true  or 
kind — nothing  she  could  wish  might  be  said  to  the 
man  she  loved. 

I  hastened  to  reassure  her : 


286         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"But  I  don't  believe  a  dashed  word  of  anything 
he  said  about  you" — I  spoke  hotly — "and  I  don't 
care  a  jolly  hang  for  what  the  others  said,  either — 
so  there  you  are !" 

"Oh,  you  don't?"  Could  tell  how  I  had  touched 
her  by  her  expression,  don't  you  know ;  and  she  fell 
to  looking  at  me  the  queerest  way.  "And  would 
you  mind  telling  me  who  the  'others'  are?" 

I  eyed  her  gloomily,  sympathetically.  As  if  she 
didn't  know  already ! 

"Well — oh,  dash  it,  my  mind  has  been  filled  with 
— er — just  anything!"  I  began  cautiously. 

"I  know," — she  murmured  it  as  if  to  herself — 
"one  can  see  that !"  And  she  bit  her  lip. 

"In  the  first  place,  you  know" — and  there  I  pulled 
up.  No,  dash  it,  I  wasn't  going  to  say  a  jolly  word 
about  poor  Jack — no,  sir!  But  then,  about  the 
other  one — well,  she  was  just  a  treacherous  snake 
in  the  what's-its-name,  and  she  ought  to  be  ex 
posed.  By  Jove,  she  should  be ! 

"It's  the  frump,  you  know,"  I  said  indignantly. 

"The— the  what?" 

Her  pretty  teeth  flashed  like  the  keyboards  of  a 
tiny  organ — you  could  even  hear  a  little  gurgly, 
musical  quiver  somewhere  behind.  And  then  I  re 
membered  that,  of  course,  she  wouldn't  know  whom 
I  meant. 

"Oh,  your  guest,  you  know — your  friend  from 
school,"  I  went  on,  trying  to  tread  cautiously  and 


BECAUSE    YOU— ARE    YOU         287 

yet  feeling  myself  growing  red.  "Oh,  see  here 
now,  I  don't  like  to  say  things,  but — er— 

"Oh,  go  on!"  she  trilled,  her  sweet  face  shining 
wistful. 

"Well,  I  mean  this — er — Miss  Kirkland ;  came 
out  with  us  this  morning,  don't  you  know.  I  think 
of  her  as  the  frump — little  idea — er — nickname  of 
mine,  you  know,  she's  so  awful!"  And  I  screwed 
my  glass  with  a  chuckle. 

For  an  instant  I  thought  she  wouldn't  catch  it, 
she  stared  at  me  so  blankly.  Then  the  joke  of  it — 
the  jolly  aptness,  so  to  speak — got  her  full  and 
square,  and  she  just  lifted  a  scream,  hugging  her 
knee  and  rocking  back  and  forth,  her  face  suffused, 
her  laughter  pealing  like  a  chime  of  bells. 

And  I  just  rocked,  too,  keeping  her  company. 
Really,  I  don't  think  I  ever  laughed  so  much  since 
some  chap  plunked  down  on  the  hard  crown  of  my 
new  tile  last  winter.  At  least  I  wanted  to  laugh — • 
in  church,  you  know,  and  it's  so  awful  how  you  feel 
there  when  something — oh,  you  know!  And  if 
you  could  have  seen  that  poor  fellow's  face ! 

By  Jove,  how  glad  I  was  for  her  jolly  sense  of 
humor  that  could  see  the  point  of  things  so  quickly, 
and  think  them  clever.  Always  had  so  dashed  little 
patience  with  stupid  people,  don't  you  know.  And 
just  here  another  little  thing  came  to  me  and  I  let 
her  have  it : 

"Oh,  I  say!" — I  leaned  nearer,  chuckling — "your 


288         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

father  pretends  to  think  her  a  most  beautiful  and 
winning  girl — fancy!"  And  my  face  stretched  it 
self  in  such  a  jolly  grin  that  I  could  hardly  hold  my 
glass. 

She  bent  toward  me,  smiling  adorably.  "You 
mean  this — er — 'Miss  Kirkland'?" 

I  nodded  chortlingly. 

She  peered  at  me  through  her  long  what-you- 
call-'ems — oh,  such  a  way! 

"But  you  don't  think  so,  do  you?"  How  sweetly, 
how  fetchingly  she  said  it! 

"Me?"  I  gasped.     By  Jove,  in  my  horror,  I  lost 

my  grip  upon  my  jolly  grammar.     "Oh,  I  say  now ! 

7  think  the  frump — this  Miss  Kirkland,  you  know 

—is  a  fright — regular  freak,  dash  it!     I  told  the 

judge  so!" 

"You— you— " 

"Of  course!"  And  I  shrugged  disgustedly,  mak 
ing  the  ugliest  grimace  I  possibly  could.  "Why, 
dash  it,  if  I  were  a  woman  and  had  a  face  like  hers, 
I  never  would  have  left  China,  or  England — or 
wherever  her  jolly  home  was — no,  sir!" 

She  caught  her  breath  with  a  little  gasp — then 
she  was  off  again !  This  time  she  rested  her  arms 
upon  the  rail  behind  and  buried  her  head  in  them, 
her  lovely  shoulders  jiggling  up  and  down,  her  sob 
bing  laughter  sending  her  off  at  last  into  a  spell  of 
coughing. 

"Oh !"  she  breathed,  lifting  at  last  her  gloriously 
blushing  face  and  dabbing  at  it  with  her  ridiculous 


BECAUSE    YOU— ARE    YOU         289 

little  handkerchief,  "oh,  you'll  kill  me — I  know  you 
will!" 

I  certainly  had  stirred  her  up,  and  I  was  de 
lighted.  It  was  funny  to  think  of  any  one  calling 
the  frump  beautiful — it  must  seem  funnier  still  to 
her,  of  course — to  Frances,  I  mean.  Why,  dash 
it,  she  seemed  to  find  a  funny  side  to  it  that  I  didn't, 
don't  you  know ! 

"Tell  me,  now" — she  clasped  her  knee,  lifting 
her  lovely  face  coaxingly — "tell  me  all  that  she  said 
about  me — everything!" 

And  I  did — every  word,  by  Jove ! 

And  no  one  could  look  into  that  sweet,  ingenuous 
face  as  I  proceeded,  and  doubt  that  the  slanders 
were  new  to  her.  Never  a  jolly  one  touched  her — 
only  you  could  see  their  absurdity  amused  her. 
Several  times  I  had  to  pause  as  she  bent  under  a 
gale  of  laughter. 

Only  once  was  she  brought  up,  shocked. 

"Oh!"  she  uttered  faintly,  as  I  came  to  the  inti 
mation  about  her  being  hail-fellow-well-met  with 
the  footmen  and  her  drinking  and  carousing  with 
them  and  other  men-servants  until  three  in  the 
morning.  I  realized  that  it  wasn't  the  matter  of 
the  drinking  that  feazed  her  and  drew  from  her 
little  gasps  as  I  came  to  this — knew  that  didn't 
bother  her,  don't  you  know,  for  I  knew  she  did 
drink — could  drink,  I  mean  to  say;  for  I  had  not 
forgotten  the  two  full  whisky  glasses  of  high-proof 
Scotch  she  had  tossed  off  that  night  in  my  rooms. 


290         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

Why,  no,  dash  it,  she  was  able  to  drink — it  went  in 
the  family!  I  could  never  forget  with  what  pride 
she  had  told  me  of  putting  her  brother  Jack  under 
the  table  two  nights  running.  That  was  all  right- 
it  was  the  other  part  of  the  frump's  scandal  that 
brought  her  up,  standing,  so  to  speak. 

For  now  she  really  looked  embarrassed,  despite 
another  lapse  to  laughter.  Her  face  and  neck  were 
dyed  a  lovely  crimson. 

"Oh,  dear!"  she  said  finally;  and  she  wiped  her 
eyes.  "What  you  must  think  of  me !" — and  she 
looked  away,  a  pretty  frown  contracting  her  face; 
then  the  jolly  dimple  deepened  once  again  and  she 
choked  into  her  handkerchief.  "Oh,  dear!"  she 
repeated,  biting  her  lip  to  hold  her  quivering  mouth 
corners.  "Oh,  it's  a  shame,"  I  heard  her  mutter; 
"I  mustn't  let  him — it's  too —  She  wheeled  upon 
me,  her  lips  tightened.  "Oh !"  she  ejaculated 
sharply,  almost  petulantly,  and  her  foot  struck 
smartly  on  the  boards.  "I  wonder  how  much  you 
think — think — " 

"Think  lots"  I  said  simply,  watching  her  little 
toe  as  it  tapped. 

"Well,  /  should  think  as  much !"  And  this  time 
her  laugh  was  short — oddly  constrained.  She 
looked  away  off  down  the  slope  to  the  river.  "Oh!" 
This  time  it  was  a  tiny  gasp  as  of  dismay.  And  the 
toe  tapped  like  an  electric  what's-its-name. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  watching  it  musingly,  "I  suppose 
it's  because  you're  the  only  girl,  don't  you  know, 


BECAUSE    YOU— ARE    YOU         291 

that  I  ever  did  think  of  before — oh,  ever  at  all, 
dash  it!" 

The  toe  stopped.  I  could  feel  her  looking  at  me 
sidewise,  but  I  did  not  glance  up,  that  I  remember; 
was  looking  down,  trying  to  get  hold  of  a  dashed 
idea  I  wanted  to  express. 

"Don't  know,"  I  continued,  boring  away  at  her 
toe,  yet  hardly  seeing  it,  "but  suppose  that's  the 
reason  I  knew  all  the  time  she  was  lying;  but  still, 
somehow  that  doesn't  seem  to  be  the  real  reason  I 
knew.  I  think  the  real  reason  I  knew  it  couldn't 
be  and  wasn't  true  was" — I  sighed  heavily — "oh, 
dash  it,  it's  so  hard  to  get  hold  of  the  jolly  thing!" 

And  there  was  a  pause. 

"The  real  reason?"  her  voice  coaxed  gently. 

"Was  because—  Then  she  moved  the  toe  and 
it  put  me  out — "I  think  just  because — oh,  yes,  I 
know  now!"  And  I  looked  up  eagerly.  "Just  be 
cause  I  knew  that  you — are  you!"  I  finished 
beamingly. 

"Oh,  I  see!"  She  said  it  musingly,  her  finger 
lightly  pressing  upon  her  lips,  her  beautiful  eyes 
studying  me  with  the  oddest,  keenest  side-glance. 

A  pause;  and  then:  "And  how  long  have  you 
known  me,  pray?  Just  a — " 

"A  thousand  years!"  I  said  promptly  and  ear 
nestly.  "A  thousand  years  and  all  my  life,  don't 
you  know !  Never  will  know  you  any  better." 

"I  wonder,"  she  murmured,  nodding  slowly. 
And  then  for  a  moment  she  didn't  say  a  word,  just 


292          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

sat  there  looking  me  over  curiously,  her  expression 
half  shy,  half  quizzical,  don't  you  know. 

Then  her  smile  flashed  again — a  radiant,  dazzling 
brightness  that  brought  her  nearer,  like  the  effect  of 
the  sunlight's  sudden  gleam  there  at  times  upon  the 
blue  line  of  the  "West  Shore"  away  across  the 
broad,  three-mile  span  of  the  old  Tappan  Zee. 

"And  now" — again  her  splendid  young  arms 
were  clasped,  wing-like,  behind  her  head;  and  its 
golden  glory  hung  like  a  picture  against  the  dark 
vine  leaves,  bossed  with  the  clustered  purple  flowers 
— "now,"  she  repeated,  settling  comfortably,  "you 
must  just  go  on  and  tell  me  the  rest — I  can  bear  it ! 
What  did  my" — her  big  blue  eyes  twinkled  as  she 
smiled — "my  father  say  about  me?" 

I  shifted  uncomfortably.  "Oh,  I  can't,  you 
know!"  I  demurred.  "I  say,  what's  the  use,  dash 
it?"  Poor  old  boy,  somehow  I  just  hated  to  round 
on  him — he  was  so  jolly  hard  hit  already;  Jack, 
don't  you  know !  Besides — 

"Please !"    Jove,  how  she  said  it ! 

"Oh,  dash  it,  I'm  afraid  it  will  hurt  you,"  I  pro 
tested  uneasily;  "and  I  don't  think  the  judge 
really—" 

"I  just  don't  care  that" — a  snap  from  her  little 
fingers  and  her  arm  went  back — "for  anything  he 
ever  said  about  me  that  was  mean!  So,  please  go 
on — I  must  go  dress  for  luncheon." 

And  so  I  just  took  a  deep  breath,  a  long  running 
leap,  and  cleared  the  bar — told  her  all,  you  know ! 


BECAUSE   YOU— ARE    YOU         293 

Oddly,  this  time  she  didn't  laugh — and  I  knew 
why :  it  was  her  father,  and  it  had  cut  her  to  the 
heart.  This  was  what  I  had  feared.  As  I  pro 
ceeded,  narrating  the  interview  in  the  library,  she 
just  grew  rosier  and  rosier  red,  but  sat  looking  at 
me  wide-eyed  and  unflinching.  The  pulsation  of 
her  bosom  quickened  a  little,  but  her  dear  face  re 
mained  unchanged,  save  for  her  little  trick  of  drag 
ging  her  under-lip  through  her  white  teeth. 

"And,  by  Jove,  that's  all!"  I  finished  with  re 
lief  as  I  mopped  my  face.  "But  who  cares,  don't 
you  know,  or  believes  any  bit  of  it?  Anyhow,  we 
don't — for  we  know !" 

"Are  you  sure?"  She  spoke  gravely,  yet  in  her 
eyes  were  the  dancing  star-motes  of  a  laugh.  "The 
extravagance,  the  gambling,  and  the — oh,  all  of  it? 
I  must  tell  you  /  heard  some  sad  things  myself 
about  Francis  Billings  while  I  was  at  Cambridge — " 

I  grunted  scornfully.  "/  know:  from  that  two- 
faced  cat,  Miss  Kirkland !  Say,  how  I  wish,  by  Jove, 
that  woman  would  pack  up  and  go  back  to  China — • 
the  sponge!"  And  I  screwed  my  giass  indignantly. 

"Oh,  now!"  she  remonstrated  sweetly,  "you 
mustn't  say  that!  You  might  be  sorry!"  She 
smiled  archly. 

I  grunted  contemptuously. 

Again  she  rested  her  little  chin  upon  her  hand, 
eying  me  thoughtfully,  earnestly. 

"And  so  you  don't  believe  any  of  it  ?" 

I  chuckled  at  the  idea.    "Oh,  I  say  now,  Frances, 


294         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

you  know  I  don't!"  And  I  shoved  a  bit  nearer, 
looking  into  her  eyes.  But  just  then  I  saw  Wilkes 
come  out  and  look  around. 

And  she  must  have  glanced  about  quickly  and 
have  seen  him,  too,  for  as  I  shifted  my  eyes  to  her 
again  she  was  blushing  furiously  and  had  moved  a 
bit. 

"I'm  afraid,"  she  said  measuredly,  her  chin  lift 
ing  a  little,  "you  do  believe — part  of  it!"  And  in 
her  eyes  was  a  glint  of  fire. 

And  then  as  my  face  fell  blankly,  a  slow  little 
smile  came  creeping  back  to  hers.  Her  eyes  soft 
ened. 

"Forgive  me,"  she  said  gently;  "I  misunder 
stood  !" 

The  darling!  And,  dash  it,  if  they  were  going 
to  have  vines  to  a  pavilion,  why  didn't  they  have 
vines  ? 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "I  don't  believe  you 
do  believe  any  of  these  awful  things  could  be  true 
about  me," — her  voice  quickened  here — "and  do 
you  know  I  just  think  it's  lovely  of  .you!  I  do!" 
And  her  dear  voice  dropped  like  the  softer  notes  of 
a  what's-its-name.  Her  hands  lay  in  her  lap  and 
she  was  studying  me  in  the  kindest,  sweetest  way! 
And  I  wanted  to  tell  her  how  good  she  was  and  how 
much  I  loved  her,  don't  you  know,  but  just  then, 
behind  the  pavilion,  came  the  gardener.  He  was 
talking  to  one  of  his  assistants  about  slugs — dash 
slusrs ! 


BECAUSE    YOU— ARE    YOU          295 

And  then  her  face  lighted  again  as  though  she 
would  speak  and  I  leaned  eagerly  toward  her — 
waiting,  expectant. 

"When  Arthur  made  his  court  at—  "  she  began, 
and,  by  Jove,  my  jolly  heart  sank.  If  she  would 
only  drop  Arthur  and  give  me  a  chance  to  make 
my  court,  dash  it !  "Camelot,  you  know,"  she  went 
on,  and  I  almost  groaned.  What  did  /  care  that 
he  came  a  lot?  Perhaps,  now,  if  I  could  divert  her 
mind — 

"Oh,  I  say,  you  know,"  I  broke  in  interestedly, 
"what  was  it  you  were — er — humming — just  now, 
don't  you  know." 

"Vivian's  song — don't  you  remember  it  ?" 

I  tried  to  think,  but  I  couldn't  seem  to  place  her, 
though  I  knew  the  whole  line  of  'em  back  to  Lottie 
Gilson. 

I  finally  had  to  shake  my  head. 

She  smiled.    "Don't  you  know,"  she  said : 

"  'I  think  you  hardly  know  the  tender  rhyme 
Of  "trust  me  not  at  all  or  all  in  all." 

She  was  right!  I  didn't  know  the  jolly  thing, 
that  was  a  fact,  but  somehow  I  liked  the  swing  of 
it.  She  went  on,  and  struck  me  with  another  re 
mark.  By  Jove,  she  seemed  to  have  forgotten  about 
the  jolly  song  and  I  was  devilish  glad,  for  I  had 
rather  hear  her  talk,  don't  you  know. 

"  'In  Love,  if  Love  be  Love,  if  Love  be  ours — ' ' 


296         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Iff"  I  ejaculated  reproachfully,  hitching  nearer. 
But  she  only  smiled,  and  continued  her  remark: 

"  'Faith  and  unfaith  can  ne'er  be  equal  powers; 
Unfaith  in  aught  is  want  of  faith  in  all.'  ' 

"Oh!"  I  uttered.  For,  by  Jove,  she  had  said  it — 
the  thing  I  had  felt  all  the  time  and  couldn't  ex 
press;  the  something  that  had  been  with  me  all 
along  in  connection  with  herself.  And  here  she  had 
the  jolly  idea  pat  upon  her  tongue !  I  just  blinked 
at  her  admiringly — didn't  dare  speak,  you  know; 
afraid  I'd  break  the  thread  of  what's-its-name. 

She  went  on  telling  me  something  about  a  lover's 
lute,  and  it  was  hard  not  to  speak  then,  for  I 
did  so  want  to  ask  what  a  jolly  lute  was.  And 
then  some  remark  about  specks  in  garnered  fruit- 
here  her  line  of  thought  had  been  changed,  I  knew, 
by  some  remark  of  the  gardener  outside :  something 
about  worms  and  the  orchard.  However,  I  just 
chirped  up  a  nod  and  listened  as  attentively  as 
though  she  had  gone  right  on.  She  was  busy  with 
her  hair  now,  but  with  her  mind  still  on  the  worm, 
murmured  abstractedly : 

"  'That  rotting  inward  slowly  moulders  all.' ' 

And  just  here,  with  a  little  clatter,  her  back 
comb  struck  the  floor,  bounding  to  the  other  side  of 
the  pavilion.  As  I  scrambled  to  get  it,  her  voice 
lifted  through  a  choke  of  laughter: 

"  'It  is  not  worth  the  keeping ;  let  it  go !'  " 


BECAUSE    YOU— ARE    YOU         297 

The  idea ! 

I  laughed  as  I  caught  the  thing  up  and  whirled, 
my  hand  outstretched  to  lay  it  in  her  own.  She  was 
on  her  feet,  pulling  down  her  belt,  and  paused  to 
lift  away  a  leaf  that  clung  to  her  snowy  skirt.  And 
just  here,  the  gardener's  voice  lifted  startlingly 
across  the  park  to  some  one  distant  and  invisible: 

"Better  bring  paris  green,  Jud ;  it's  the  only  way 
we'll  ever  get  rid  of  'em,"  he  bawled.  "I  see  they're 
going  after  the  leaves  now,  and  they  can  live  on 
them  and  air.  Pizen'll  fix  'em,  though !" 

The  comb  outstretched,  I  stood  staring  at  Fran 
ces,  doubled  over  and  writhing.  And  then,  with  a 
long-drawn  gasp  that  was  half  a  screech,  her  lithe 
some  figure  straightened,  her  head  went  back,  and 
from  her  throat  there  trilled  the  very  joy  of  health 
and  youth  and  happy  days. 

"Oh !"  she  gasped,  her  hand  pressing  to  her  side. 
And  while  I  looked  at  her  anxiously,  she  went  on 
pantingly,  her  eyes  bright  with  tears : 

"  'But  shall  it  ?    Answer,  darling,  answer  no, 
And  trust  me  not  at  all  or  all  in  all.' ' 

"Jove!"  I  said  delightedly,  placing  the  comb  in 
her  outstretched  hand  and  pressing  it — the  hand,  I 
mean,  dash  it !  "I  do,  don't  you  know !  I  trust  you 
all  in  all!" 


CHAPTER    XXX 

THE  JUDGE  FIXES   "FOXY  GRANDPA" 

UT  I  tell  you,  sir,  he  is  not  my  son!" 
The  judge  was  bending  over  the  desk  'phone 
as  I  looked  in  a  half  hour  later.  His  voice  rose  in 
a  crescendo  of  rage:  "Wha — what's  that?  Do  I 
want  to  speak  with  him?  Certainly  not,  sir — and  I 
won't!  .  .  .  Um,  yes — John  W.  Billings — yes, 
that's  his  name.  .  .  .  Stuff  and  nonsense,  sir! 
He's  up-stairs  now  in  his  room.  .  .  .  Says  what?" 
— the  judge's  eyes  rolled  frowningly  upward  as  he 
listened;  then  he  licked  his  lips  and  bent  again, 
speaking  with  passionate  incisiveness :  "Why,  dam 
mit,  man,  I've  just  this  minute  been  talking  to  him 
— just  left  him,  y'understand.  .  .  .  Certainly 
your  man's-  an  impostor — you  ought  to  know  that ! 
.  .  .  Yes,  this  is  Judge  Billings,  himself.  .  .  . 
Eh?  Oh,  that's  all  right,  but  now  let  me  tell  you 
something" — he  cleared  his  throat  and  gathered  his 
voice  in  cold,  deliberate  accents :  "You  let  me  be 
annoyed  again  from  your  precinct,  and  I  can  prom 
ise  you  that  .  .  .  Um,  well  that's  all  right  then 
.  .  .  'Bye!" 

He  banged  the  receiver  to  the  hook  and  faced 
about,  muttering  things  to  himself. 

298 


JUDGE    FIXES    FOXY    GRANDPA      299 

"Well,  upon  my  word!  Of  all  the — excuse  me, 
Lightnut !"  He  wiped  his  forehead,  his  glance  ab 
stracted  and  scowling.  "Somebody  is  putting  this 
fool  up  to  this — somebody  trying  to  annoy  me!" 
He  uttered  a  short  laugh  that  was  more  of  a  snort. 
"There's  some  fool  lunatic  down  in  New  York  that 
they've  arrested  and  he's  got  a  bug  that  he's  my 
son !  This  is  the  second  offense.  Caused  me  to  lose 
two  hours  from  my  office  yesterday  in  the  city  and 
upset  me  for  the  whole  day!  And  me  so  busy! 
busy!" — his  hands  lifted  toward  the  papers  on  the 
table — "so  busy  I  can  hardly" — another  snort,  and 
he  relighted  his  cigar,  puffing  savagely — "looks  like 
there's  just  one  fool  thing  after  another  interrupt 
ing  me  or  absorbing  my  time !" 

"Jolly  shame,  you  know!"  I  responded,  dropping 
sympathetically  into  a  chair.  I  pushed  the  papers 
to  one  side  so  I  could  rest  my  elbow  on  the  table 
edge ;  besides,  I  saw  they  were  fretting  him — could 
tell  by  his  glances,  you  know. 

For  another  thing,  I  had  got  hold  of  a  devilish 
shrewd  idea  I  wanted  to  break  to  him — about  this 
chap  who  was  pretending  to  be  his  son.  I  remem 
bered  that  the  old  rascal  who  had  invaded  my  rooms 
had  tried  to  make  me  believe  that  I  was  his  bosom 
friend. 

"Oh,  I  say,  you  know,"  I  began,  declining  a  cigar 
and  selecting  a  cigarette  from  my  case,  "I've  an 
idea!" 

And  I  faced  him  impressively. 


300         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"You've  what?"-— he  straightened  forward,  with 
a  kind  of  twisted  smile — interested,  you  know— 
"whatever  makes  you  think  that,  my  boy  ?" 

I  waited,  sending-  a  long,  thin  smoke  funnel  up 
ward.  Kept  him  expectant,  you  see,  and  gave  me 
time  to  get  hold  of  the  corners  of  the  jolly  thing 
myself.  Catch  the  point?  So  devilish  important 
when  you  have  to  lift  an  idea,  don't  you  know. 

"Rather  fancy  your  chap's  the  same  one  I  know 
of,"  I  drawled,  "an  oldish  duffer — white  mutton- 
chops — beefy  sort  of  face — sunburn  line  and  bald- 
ish — all  that  sort  of  thing!" 

"Well,  by-y-y  George!" — he  slapped  his  hand 
down — "I  should  say  that  was  a  real  idea!  And 
you  say  you  know  this  crazy  fool  ?" 

"Crazy?  He's  not  crazy!"  I  exclaimed  indig 
nantly,  thinking  of  her  pajamas.  "And  he's  no 
more  fool  than  I  am !" 

He  fell  back  with  a  grunt.  "Oh,  well,  I  know — 
but—" 

He  coughed.  By  Jove,  he  seemed  disappointed, 
somehow ! 

I  proceeded  calmly:  "Real  truth  is,  the  beggar's 
a  notorious  criminal,  known  to  the  police  as  Foxy 
Grandpa — pretends  all  sorts  of  things  about  people, 
don't  you  know." 

"My  dear  Lightnut," — he  was  staring  at  me, 
mouth  distended — "why — how  the  devil  do  you 
know  this?" 

I  inhaled  deliberately.     "Awfully  simple,   don't 


JUDGE    FIXES    FOXY    GRANDPA       301 

you  know,"  I  responded  quietly;  and  I  let  him  wait 
till  I  had  blown  six  rings.  "Fact  is,  I'm  the  one 
sent  him  to  jail!" 

"You!" — his  laugh  was  frankly  amused,  incred 
ulous. 

"Oh,  yes !" — carelessly — "found  the  fellow  thiev 
ing  in  my  rooms  the  other  night  and  called  in  police 
— oh,  they  recognized  him  in  a  minute !" 

He  looked  floored.  "Well,  what  do  you  think  of 
that  ?"  he  murmured  slowly.  Then  his  face  flushed 
and  he  sat  erect.  "And  so  that's  all  the  crazier  the 
ruffian  is — that's  the  kind  of  smart  Alex  that's  been 
trying  to  get  gay  with  me — with  me!"  He  started 
up,  snorting  like  a  war-horse — "Huh!  Well,  two 
can  play  at  that  game,  and" — his  eyes  twinkled 
wrathfully — "I'll  show  him  who's  got  the  best 
hand!  I'll  just— " 

The  rest  trailed  off  in  a  mutter.  He  had  dropped 
beside  the  telephone  again,  his  cigar  crushed  firmly 
in  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  his  gray  mustache  bris 
tling  aggressively.  I  tried  to  trace  the  family  re 
semblance  to  Frances,  but  dashed  if  I  could  see  a 
single  point.  And  while  I  was  thinking  of  this,  he 
got  his  number. 

"Yes,  yes,"  I  heard,  "I  do  want  to  speak  to  him 
personally — this  is  Judge  Billings!" — a  moment, 
and  then:  "Morning,  Commissioner — this  is  Bil 
lings.  .  .  .  Fine,  thank  you !  .  .  .  Oh,  no!  No 
bad  effects  at  all — takes  more  than  that  to  throw  a 
seasoned  old  diner  like  my—  .  .  .  What  say?" 


302          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

— a  cackling  chuckle — "yes,  I  knew  the  dinner 
would  loosen  him  up!  Had  his  promise  before  we 
left  the  table;  Soakem  heard  him — so  did  Benedict. 
.  .  .  Yes — oh,  yes;  he's  got  it — had  it  with  me, 
you  know,  in  case!  .  .  .  No-o-o,  of  course  not; 
not  a  single  line  or  scrap!" — a  lower  drop  of  tone — 
"just  in  a  plain,  blank  envelope — best  way  always, 
you  know.  .  .  .  Yes,  that  gives  us  a  safe  margin 
in  the  Senate  now,  not  even  counting  upon  what 
they  do  in  committee — and  Soakem'll  take  care  of 
that  end.  .  .  .  Yes,  he  went  back  to  Albany  this 
morning — he  says  the  bill's  safely  deader'n  Hector 
now.  .  .  .  Er,  by  the  way,  Commissioner,"- 
the  judge  cleared  his  throat  and  his  voice  sobered : 
"Little  favor  I  want  to  ask — h'm!  I'm  being 
greatly  annoyed  by  some  low  vagabond  confined  at 
one  of  the  stations.  .  .  .  Yes,  I  really  mean  it! 
— Captain  Clutchem's  precinct,  you  know — and  thi< 
ruffian  insists  to  them  that  he's  my  son.  .  .  .  No, 
indeed,  I'm  not  joking  at  all.  .  .  .  All  right,  you 
may  laugh,  but  I  fail  to  appreciate  the  funny  side, 
myself — especially  now,  you  know,  when  I'm  up  to 
my  neck  in  this  merger  case.  .  .  .  How's  that? 
What  do  I  want  done?  Oh,  I  wouldn't  venture  to 
say  as  to  that!  I  leave  that  to  you!  .  .  .  /  know, 
.  .  .  Yes,  I  understand  all  that,  but  .  .  .  wrait 
— wait  just  a  minute !  Now  you  listen — 

The  judge  concentrated  more  intensely  over  the 
instrument. 

"You  know  what  you  asked  me  to  do  when  I  saw 


JUDGE    FIXES    FOXY    GRANDPA       303 

you  last  night — and  I  refused" — another  voice  drop 
—"with  the  mayor,  you  know?  Well — now  listen 
—you  make  assurance  that  this  scoundrel  will  not 
bother  me  for  thirty  days  and — well,  I  give  you 
my  word  that  I'll  do  all  I  can  to  bring  things  the 
way  you  want.  .  .  .  Good !  .  .  .  What'll  you 
do  with  him?  Why,  what  in  Sam  Hill  do  7  care 
what  you  do  with  him  ?  .  .  .  Oh,  but  say,  Com 
missioner — yes,  I  do  care,  too!" — a  laugh  here  like  a 
jolly  fiend — "I  shouldn't  like  for  him  to  be  put 
away  off  in  some  nice,  damp,  dark  cell  to  cool  off- 
he  !  he !  he ! — y 'understand  ?" 

He  got  so  mixed  up  in  his  chuckling  and  cough 
ing  that  he  couldn't  get  out  another  word  for  a  mo 
ment.  Then — 

"Oh,  no !  CVr-tainly  not ;  nor  one  too  hot  and  air 
less,  as  you  say — he !  he !  he !  And  don't  put  him — 
don't  put  him — "  the  judge  was  gasping  for  air 
now — "don't  put  him  on  bread  and  water,  or  any 
thing  of  that  kind,  nor  in  a  cell  with  rude,  rough 
men  who  would  tame  his  playful  spirit — he!  he!  he! 
—oh,  don't  do  that!  .  .  .  What  say?  I  didn't 
quite  catch — "  And  then,  dash  it,  it  seemed  he  did 
catch  it,  for  he  began  waving  his  arm  and  pounding 
the  desk.  "Oh — oh,  no,  that  would  be  too  bad— 
really!  .  .  .  Eh?  Oh,  well,  you  know  best — it's 
up  to  you  now!  .  .  .  'Bye,  and  many  thanks, 
Commissioner!  Eh?  All  right,  to-morrow  then  at 
one  at  the  Lawyers'  Club — you  can  go  over  again 
the  points  of  what  you  want  with  the  mayor.  'Bye !" 


304         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

And  with  good  humor  perfectly  restored,  he  faced 
me,  wabbling  like  a  jolly  jellyfish. 

"  'S  greatest  joke  ever  heard  of  in  my  life!"  he 
chortled. 

"Oh,  I  say,  how  did  you  find  Jack?"  I  asked,  for 
that  was  the  thing  I  had  begun  to  think  of. 

His  face  collapsed  so  clashed  sudden,  I  was  afraid 
it  would  break.  And  from  being  a  peppery  red,  he 
changed  to  a  devilish  sickly  yellow. 

"Awful!"  he  said  jerkily.  "Something  awful!" 
And  he  groaned  like  a  jolly  horse  in  pain.  "Went 
up  there,  you  know,  but — "  his  hands  lifted  and 
dropped ;  he  shook  his  head — "didn't  seem  to  know 
me  at  all — was  sitting  there  in  his  pajamas  examin 
ing  with  a  magnifying  glass  some  leaves  he  had 
pulled  at  the  window.  Seems  obsessed  with  some 
crazy  patter  of  talk  I  couldn't  understand — poor  fel 
low!"  The  judge  sighed.  "Only  thing  he  seemed  to 
want  me  to  do  for  him  was  to  promise  to  wear  his 
pajamas  to-night — pajamas  seem  to  be  the  focus 
of  his  malady  this  time." 

I  swallowed  pretty  hard  and  looked  down. 

"I  promised,"  continued  the  judge  gloomily. 
"And  I'll  do  it — oh,  yes,  anything  to  humor  him! 
He's  to  put  them  outside  his  door  to-night — it's  his 
own  whim,  you  know."  He  went  on  moodily:  "He 
won't  allow  any  luncheon  sent  up;  says  if  not  too 
much  trouble,  would  be  grateful  for  two  and  one- 
half  ounces  of  unleavened  bread  and  clabber — what 
the  devil's  clabber?" 


JUDGE    FIXES    FOXY    GRANDPA       305 

I  had  never  heard  of  it — knew,  of  course,  no  one 
had ! 

"Well,"  he  said  with  a  deep  breath,  "we'll  just 
have  to  do  the  best  we  can.  Of  course,  under  the 
circumstances,  it's  best  for  him  to  keep  his  apart 
ment — Oh,  say,  would  you  like  to  go  up?" 

"Oh— er— think  not !"  I  stammered.  "Don't  be 
lieve  I—" 

"You're  right!  You're  right!"  He  pursed  his 
lips:  "Too  pitiful  a  sight — only  sadden  you!"  He 
began  gathering  up  the  papers  beh'ind  my  arm, 
though  I  murmured  that  they  were  not  in  my  way 
at  all.  The  cathedral  chimes  in  the  hall  had  played 
the  half  hour.  The  judge  strolled  over  to  the  French 
windows  that  opened  upon  the  loggia. 

"I  say,  Lightnut,  have  you  ever  noticed  the  view 
from  out  here  ?"  he  asked  briskly.  "Fine,  you  know ! 
Nice  to  sit  here  and  watch  the  boats — have  you  your 
cigarettes?  Oh,  yes!  Try  this  chair!  Now,  if 
you'll  excuse  me  I'll  be  with  you  in — 

"Luncheon  is  served !"  intoned  a  human  machine. 

"Ah-h!"  The  judge's  tone  evinced  satisfaction. 
"My  dear  Lightnut,"  his  hand  upon  my  arm,  "do 
you  know  I  look  upon  you  as  so  nearly  one  of  us — 

"Thank  you,  judge!"  I  said  feelingly.  By  Jove, 
it  was  devilish  comfy  to  have  her  father  so  jolly 
friendly  about  it ! 

"That  I'm '  just  going  to  ask  you  to  excuse  me 
from  lunching  with  you — know  you'll  understand, 
my  boy! — so  infernally  busy,  you  see !" 


3o6         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

I  didn't  see,  though  he  had  been  saying  this  all 
morning.  But  as  he  seemed  to  think  he  was  busy, 
I  wasn't  going  to  make  any  dashed  break  contra 
dicting  him,  you  know.  So  I  pretended  I  did  see. 

"Thank  you — thank  you,  my  boy !"  He  patted  me 
on  the  back.  "And  as  you'll  have  an  opportunity  of 
seeing  a  little  more  of  that  charming  girl,  Miss 
Kirkland — "  Charming  girl,  indeed!  I  wondered 
what  he  would  think,  if  he  knew  of  her  designs  on 
poor  Jack!  "I  want  you  to  go  in  for  her  a  bit — 
cultivate  her  a  little ;  you  may  change  your  opinion 
— eh?"  He  laughed  softly  and  paused  in  our  prog 
ress  through  the  library  to  dig  me  sharply  in  the  side. 
"Go  ahead — flirt  with  her,  my  boy !  She  will  like  it 
— all  girls  do — and  it  will  do  you  good ;  do  both  of 
you  good!"  The  old  boy  beamed  at  me  over  his 
glasses  as  he  vented  a  horrible  chuckle ;  didn't  seem 
to  notice  how  painfully  shocked  I  was. 

A  flirtation,  indeed!  And  with  the  frump,  of  all 
others !  Of  course  he  was  just  having  his  little  joke, 
and  didn't  seem  to  realize  what  devilish  poor  taste  he 
exhibited  as  the  father  of  my  darling. 

"Thank  you,"  I  said  rather  coldly,  "but  I  don't 
think  that — er — sort  of  thing  would  show  much 
consideration  for  Frances  and— 

"Rubbish!"  And,  by  Jove,  how  he  laughed !  "Do 
you  think  Francis  would  show  any  consideration  for 
you?"-—\\e  snapped  his  fingers.  "I  think  you're  a  bit 
too  quixotic,  young  man !" 

I  didn't  know — don't  know  now ;  never  was  up  on 


JUDGE    FIXES    FOXY    GRANDPA       307 

any  of  those  legal  terms.    He  knew  what  he  meant ! 

"Pshaw,  now!"  he  went  on,  "if  that's  what's  re 
straining  you,  you  must  drop  it !  I  want  you  to  have 
a  pleasant  time  while  you  are  here  with  Miss  Kirk- 
land — get  along  with  you !" — then  he  pulled  me  back 
again — "You  needn't  be  thinking  about  the  slightest 
obligation  so  far  as  Francis  is  concerned.  Why 
should  you  when  the  affair  is  all  one-sided  ?" 

"One — one-sided?"  I  repeated  falteringly. 

"Why,  yes;  the  girl  doesn't  care  for  anybody  in 
the  whole  word  except  her  old  father — and  he  idol 
izes  her!" 

Oh,  did  he ! 

"So  you  go  on  in  there  and  loosen  up — have  a 
good  time — and  make  her  have  one ;  and  keep  it  up 
this  afternoon.  I'm  so  anxious  for  you  to  find  some 
thing  to  interest  and  occupy  you —  His  glance 
dropped  an  instant  to  the  papers  and  law  books  as 
though  wishing  he  had  something  better  with  which 
to  occupy  himself.  "Besides,"  he  added  carelessly, 
"Francis  won't  be  here  to  see  what  you  do — gone  off 
with  Scoggins  up  somewhere  in  the  hills — big  dog 
fight  up  there  and  Francis  took  four  curs,  Scoggins 
two — they  won't  be  back  till  night — so  go  ahead!" 

But  I  had  caught  the  back  of  a  chair. 

"Dog-fight?"  I  said  faintly.  "Frances  up  in  the 
hills — and — and  with  Scoggins?"  And  she  had 
only  left  me  a  half-hour  ago ! 

"Why,  certainly!"  he  said  wearily,  almost  testily. 
"What  of  it  ?  I  tell  you  you've  got  to  get  your  ideas 


3o8         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

all  readjusted  about  Francis.  What's  the  matter 
with  the  dog-fight  ?" 

"So — so  surprised,"  I  faltered;  "so  unexpected, 
you  know !" 

"Poof!" — and  he  pushed  me  out  through  the 
doorway — "I  never  face  anything  unexpected  in  that 
quarter!" 

But  I  think  he  would  have,  if  he  had  followed  me 
across  into  the  dining-room  and  had  faced,  as  I 
did- 

Frances ! 

"So  glad  you  didn't  go  to  the  dog-fight!"  I  said 
presently,  beaming  across  at  her  delightedly. 

Her  sweet  lips  glowed  at  me  as  her  dainty  fingers 
poised  the  tiny  trident  before  her  lips.  Jove,  how  I 
envied  that  jolly  oyster!  Then  she  smiled  witch- 
ingly,  teasingly. 

"It  wasn't  because  I  didn't  have  an  invitation," 
she  responded  archly.  7  knew!  That  beast,  Scog- 
gins! 

"Umph ;"  grunted  the  frump,  seated  on  the  curve 
between  us.  "I  verily  believe  Francis  would  go  to 
anything !" 

I  scowled — couldn't  help  it,  dash  it !  And  Frances 
saw,  and  ducked  her  head,  biting  her  lip  and  blush 
ing.  I  could  have  choked  the  frump  for  so  embar 
rassing  her ! 

Yet  the  woman  did  try  to  be  pleasant  to  me. 

"Did  you  ever  find  a  pearl  in  an  oyster,  Mr.  Light- 
nut  ?"  she  asked. 


JUDGE    FIXES    FOXY    GRANDPA       309 

"By  Jove,  no!"  I  said,  staring  at  her  for  the  fool 
question.  For  who  could  ever  lose  a  pearl  in  a  jolly 
oyster,  don't  you  know  ?  And  yet,  the  next  instant : 

"/  have !"  said  my  darling,  glancing  up  at  me  the 
oddest  way. 

"Have  you,  Frances?" — the  frump  faced  her 
interestedly.  "You  should  examine  with  a  micro 
scope  the  interstratifications  of  calcareous  matter 
and  animal  membrane." 

My  beauty  looked  down  at  her  plate. 

"I  am  examining  it,"  she  said  gravely,  "and 
microscopically.  Probably  shall  this  afternoon." 

But  she  didn't!  No,  by  Jove,  we  were  together 
almost  all  the  afternoon,  though  we  never  could  get 
away  from  the  frump — dash  it,  she  just  took  charge 
of  us.  And  it  was  the  same  again  in  the  evening. 
By  Jove,  it  was  disgusting — really,  that's  the  only 
word  to  use — the  way  that  woman  assumed  toward 
everybody  the  air  of  expect-to-be-mistress-here- 
some-day-and-might-as-well-begin-now! 

Once  she  did  break  away  from  us  for  fifteen  min 
utes  while  she  went  up  to  see  how  Jack  was.  She 
came  back  much  relieved. 

"He  was  so  glad  to  see  me,"  she  said,  "and  he 
kissed  me  twice.  We  had  such  an  interesting  dis- 
ttission  about  the  amoeba." 

"The  what?"  asked  Frances. 

"The  amoeba; — tiny  animalcules,  don't  you  know, 
that  have  the  power  of  changing  their  form  and  ap 
pearance,  Jacky  thinks  that  perhaps  man,  too,  in 


3io         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

the  process  of  time  and  evolution  might  scientifically 
acquire  this — " 

"How  silly!"  laughed  my  darling.  And  I  thought 
so  too.  Of  course  if  a  man  looked  like  himself  once, 
he  would  ahvays  look  like  himself.  Any  fool  knew 
that ! 

Later,  the  judge  came  to  my  room,  accompanied 
by  Wilkes  with  some  Heidelberg  punch,  frappe. 

"Couldn't  leave  you  out  of  this,"  he  said  genially; 
"besides,  wanted  to  toast  your  first  night  under  the 
roof  of  Wolhurst! 

"Hope  they're  making  you  comfortable,"  he  went 
on.  "Infernal  shame,  Lightnut,  that  I've  had  to  neg 
lect  you  so;  so  absurdly  busy,  you  know — you  un 
derstand  ?" 

I  pretended  to,  for  I  knew  he  wanted  me  to  think 
that,  but  I  had  heard  the  butler  tell  the  frump  that 
the  judge  was  reading. 

"Don't  expect  to  retire  at  all,"  he  continued ;  "and 
then  there's  my  promise  to  my  poor  boy — I  must 
keep  that  somehow ;  never  failed  on  a  promise  in  my 
life — I  mean,  you  know,  about  wearing  his  new  pa 
jamas."  He  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"T'  be  sure!" — and  I  swallowed  hard — Jove,  but 
the  very  word,  "pajamas,"  gave  me  cold  marrows! 

"And,  my  boy,  I  haven't  forgotten  my  promise  to 
you,  either,"  he  continued,  smiling  kindly  and  re 
plenishing  my  glass  to  the  brim.  "I'm  still  going  to 
have  a  word  with  Francis  to-night — that  is,  if  they 


JUDGE    FIXES    FOXY    GRANDPA       311 

ever  get  back  from  that  infernal  dog-fight — I  want 
to  pave  the  way  for  you,  you  know." 

"Thanks  awfully !"  I  murmured  nervously. 

Somehow,  I  felt  mean — always  hate  to  feel  mean, 
dash  it — felt  almost  like  a  jolly  cad,  in  fact. 
Couldn't  tell  him  how  far  Frances  and  I  had  pro 
gressed  already;  he  might  take  it  out  on  her,  you 
know.  And  then,  to  find  out  that  he  didn't  know 
she  hadn't  gone  to  the  dog-fight  after  all ! 

"Well,"  he  sighed,  "I  will  manage  it  all  somehow, 
even  about  the  pajamas.  Perhaps,  when  the  house 
is  quiet,  I  may — here,  have  another — oh,  yes,  you 
must! — won't  hurt  you;  only  a  pint  or  so  of  rum 
in  the  whole  mixture.  Fine,  isn't  it?  Yes,  I  think 
Wilkes  is  certainly  an  artist,  when  it  comes  to  a 
nightcap.  Now,  let  me  fill  yours  again — oh,  yes!"- 
and  he  did  it — "Won't  hurt  a  baby — make  you  sleep 
tight,  you  know!" 

And,  by  Jove,  I  had  to  go  it ! 

"Well—  '  he  shifted  as  if  to  go,  and  sent  me  a 
smile  over  his  glass's  rim,  "pleasant  dreams!" 

And  then  the  door  closed  behind  our  "good 
nights." 

Jenkins  was  studying  me  somberly. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  said  presently,  when  I  had  made 
comment  about  the  bully  punch.  And  that  was 
about  all  I  could  get  out  of  him,  until  he  was  ready 
to  push  out  the  light. 

Then  he  addressed  me  gloomily : 


3i2          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Good  night,  sir,"  he  said  with  a  sickly,  feeble 
smile,  "I  hope  you'll  sleep  well ;  and—  "  he  coughed 
faintly — "and — er — wake  up — h'm — all  right!" 

"Frisky  as  a — "  I  bunched  my  head  sleepily  into 
the  pillow — "as  a  jolly — "  But  the  idea  wouldn't 
come! 

"Night!"  I  murmured;  and  let  it  go  at  that! 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE  DEMON  RUM 

I  DIDN'T  feel  frisky  when  I  awoke! 
No,  dash  it,  I  had  a  devilish  headache  and  my 
mouth  had  that  gummy,  warm-varnish  taste — you 
know !  The  sunlight  lay  across  the  floor,  and  out 
side  I  could  hear  the  jolly  birds  twittering  among 
their  what's-its-names.  Jenkins  stood  by  the  foot  of 
the  bed  and  somehow  had  a  gloomy  look.  He 
cleared  his  throat,  and  I  had  a  feeling  that  he  had 
already  done  it  several  times.  I  raised  to  my  elbow, 
mouthing  at  him  heavily. 

"Morning,  sir!"  He  said  it  very  gently — I 
thought  solicitously.  "How  do  you  feel,  sir?"  This 
last  in  the  kind  of  tone  you  use  when  the  chap's  go 
ing  to  die  to-morrow,  don't  you  know,  and  doesn't 
know  it  yet  himself. 

I  mumbled  reply,  gulping  down  the  glass  of  ice- 
water  he  tendered. 

He  rubbed  his  hands  one  over  the  other  and 
stooped  above  me  anxiously. 

"I  hope,  sir,  you're  not  in  much  pain — from  last 
night,  sir,  I  mean?" 

"Pain?"  I  ejaculated  crossly.  "Why  should  I  be 
in  pain?  Don't  be  a  silly  ass !" 

313 


3 14         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Yes,  sir!" — very  softly,  and  with  a  deep  sigh  as 
he  dropped  back.  By  Jove,  he  looked  as  cheerful 
as  a  jolly  tombstone! 

"What  the  deuce — "  I  began. 

"Noth — nothing,  sir!" — hastily — "I  was  just 
a-thinking  of  the — h'm — may  I  say  scrimmage, 
sir?" 

I  waited  till  I  had  taken  from  his  hand  the  second 
glass  of  ice-water  and  swallowed  it,  thinking  maybe 
I  would  get  hold  of  it — the  dashed  idea,  I  mean. 

I  batted  at  him  perplexedly. 

"What  was  that?  Scrimmage?  I  don't  remem 
ber  hearing  anything — what's  that  ?" 

And  I  reached  for  another  glass. 

"Pardon,  sir — "  Jenkins'  eye  shifted  unhappily; 
"but  may  I  ask,  sir,  what  is  the  last  thing  you  do 
remember  ?" 

"Eh?" 

I  sat  up  a  bit  straighter,  rubbing  my  head  and 
devilish  annoyed  at  being  made  to  try  to  think  at  all. 
Then  I  remembered :  We  were  in  a  jolly  blue  aero 
plane  drawn  by  golden  humming-birds  and  she  was 
just  telling  me — no,  dash  it,  that  was  a  dream — just 
a  dashed  dream!  I  groaned,  dropping  my  head  upon 
my  knees.  "Why,  the  last  thing  I  remember  was  the 
punch — punch — " 

"Punch — yes,  sir !"    And  Jenkins  sighed. 

"Your  punch  to  put  out  the  light,"  I  finished. 
Then  I  looked  at  him,  startled.  "Oh,  I  say,  now,  it 
wasn't  burglars,  was  it?" 


THE    DEMON    RUM  315 

You  see,  I  thought  at  once  of  Foxy  Grandpa  and 
my  darling's  pajamas. 

"Not  precisely,  sir."  Jenkins  hesitated;  then 
moved  a  little  nearer.  "I — I  hope  you'll  pardon  me, 
Mr.  Lightnut,  sir ;  but  I  can't  help  a  feeling  that  you 
ought  to  know  everything  before — h'm — I  was  go 
ing  to  say,  sir,  before  you  see  the  family.  I  hope 
you'll  pardon  me,  sir!" — he  heaved  desperately — "I 
mean  about  all  that  happened  last  night." 

I  stared.  "Oh,  I  say,  Jenkins,"  I  said,  with  an 
anxious  thought,  "you  didn't — er — you  know — I 
mean  you  and  Wilkes  didn't  drink  the  rest  of  the 
punch — after  he  took  it  away,  you  know — eh?" 

"Me?"  Jenkins'  hand  clutched  the  heavy  brass 
curve  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  "No,  sir!" — and  he 
added  sadly :  "Besides,  sir,  there  wasn't  any  rest  of 
it!  Mr.  Wil — I  mean  Wilkes,  was  a-commenting 
on  it.  That  was  how  I  come  to  find  I  didn't  have 
any  more  of  the  blank  pledges.  So  I  just  walked 
across  the  park  to  get  some  extra  ones  I  had  given 
the  gardener,  and  he  said  I  could  have  'em  all,  if 
I'd  just  let  him  get  a  little  sleep ;  and  he  chucked  'em 
all  out  of  his  window.  Seemed  irritated  like  because 
I  woke  him  up.  And  then,  sir,  I  don't  know  whether 
it  was  because  of  the  splashing  of  the  fountains,  but 
I  had  an  idea." 

"That's  nothing,"  I  said  contemptuously,  "I  often 
do  at  night  when  I  hear  water  splashing.  I  often 
get  up  and  get  something." 

Jenkins'  face  sobered.     "I  know  it,  sir — pardon, 


3i6         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

sir,  I  mean  I  frequently  know  you  have — h'm — 
know  by  the  glasses — you  understand,  sir!"  Then 
he  went  on :  "The  idea  that  came  to  me  was  a  great 
liberty — I  know  that,  sir,  and  I'm  sorry — but  I  guess 
I  was  thinking  that  about  the  end  justifies — you 
know  it,  sir?" 

I  didn't  know,  but  I  did  wish  he  would  make  an 
end! 

"The  library  windows  was  open  on  the  loggia,  sir, 
and  when  I  looked  in,  I  didn't  see  anybody  and  I 
thought — "  Jenkins  coughed  and  looked  devilish 
rattled — "thought  I  would  just  slip  in  and  lay  a  few 
of  the  temperance  pledges  between  the  papers  the 
judge  had  been  working  on."  Jenkins  reddened, 
looking  at  me  in  an  appealing  way. 

"Jove!"  I  ejaculated,  staring.    "Oh,  I  say,  now!" 

"Yes,  sir," — faintly — "I  knew  how  you  would 
feel — I  ain't  excusing  myself,  sir;  and  when  I 
heard  your  voice  I  tried  to  get  out,  but  there  wasn't 
time,  so  I — "  Jenkins  touched  his  hands  in  front, 
then  behind  him,  and  shifted  distressfully,  "I — I  hid 
behind  the  alcove  curtains — h'm — and  just  then — 

"Here!"  I  broke  in,  "Wait,  dash  it!  Whose  voice 
did  you  hear?" 

Jenkins'  eyes  ducked. 

"Yours,  sir,"  he  said  faintly.  "And  then  you 
came  in." 

I  stared,  trying  to  take  it  in.  Couldn't  chirp  a 
word,  don't  you  know,  for  to  think  I  had  taken  to 
sleep-walking — and  her  el 


THE    DEMON    RUM  317 

Jenkins  proceeded  rapidly:  "You  was  cording  a 
dressing-robe  about  you  as  you  came  in  and  I  see 
a  glimpse  of  one  of  your  dark  suits  underneath. 
And  following  right  behind  you  was  that  young  Mr. 
Bi — h'm — pardon,  sir,  I  remember  you  said  I  wasn't 
to  mention  any  one  connected  with  that  ni — h'm! 
You  know  who  I  mean,  sir?" — he  paused  anxiously 
• — "Young  man,  sir — freckled  face — and  the  big  lot 
of" — his  spreading  fingers  curved  above  his  head — 
"awfully  yellow  hair — um,  you  know,  sir  ?" 

"Oh,  that!"  I  said  with  contempt,  for  I  knew  he 
meant  that  mucker,  Scoggins.  Then  incredulously : 
"Oh,  I  say,  you  don't  mean  I  was  talking  to  him? 
And  asleep  ?" 

Jenkins  eyed  me  reproachfully.  "Not  asleep,  sir," 
he  remonstrated  gently. 

"But  I  tell  you—" 

"Mr.  Lightnut,  sir,  it  was  the  punch!"  He  shook 
his  head.  "If  you'll  excuse  me  for  mentioning — ' 

"Oh!"  I  remarked  weakly,  falling  back  upon  tny 
pillow.  "Jove,  Jenkins !"  And  I  just  looked  at  him 
stupidly — fact ! 

Jenkins  stroked  his  chin,  his  eyes  fixed  somberly 
above  my  head.  "The  demon  rum,  sir,"  he  said 
slowly,  and  using  the  deep,  heavy  chest  tones  like 
the  high-up  politicians  and  expensive  lecturers,  "is 
rampant  in  our  fair  land — that's  what  I  heard  Doc 
tor  Splasher  remark — and  the  insid'jus  monster  is 
slowly — " 

And  he  went  on,  but  I  didn't  hear.     I  was  trying 


3i8         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

to  think.  So  I  hadn't  been  sleep-walking,  but  had 
been  just  plain  drunk — and  in  her  home! — so  jolly 
well  corked,  in  fact,  I  hadn't  even  a  dashed  glimmer 
of  memory  of  it.  Had  been  making  a  spectacle  of 
myself,  going  all  about  the  house  in  the  wee  what- 
you-call-'em  hours  of  the  night  and  probably — oh, 
good  heavens,  probably  singing! 

I  dropped  my  head  back  upon  the  pillow. 

"Go  on,"  I  said.     "Tell  me  all!" 

"Yes,  sir,"  resumed  Jenkins,  "as  I  was  saying, 
you  came  in  with — you  know — er — the  young  fel 
low.  He  kinder  slouched  in,  looking  a  bit  sulk}-. 

"  T've  been  watching  for  you  to  get  back  from  tlie 
dog-fight/  you  says  to  him ;  'sit  down,  I  want  to  talk 
to  you.'  But  the  young  fellow  just  stood  square  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor  and  just  kinder  scowled 
black. 

"Then  you  says,  pleasant-like :  'I've  been  talking 
with  a  friend  of  yours,  my  son,  who  thinks  I  haven't 
treated  you  quite  fair.' 

"  *O !'  says  this  young  fellow,  and  seems  kinder 
surprised.  Then  he  got  red. 

"  'And  so,  my  boy,'  you  went  on,  tightening  your 
glass  as  you  looked  at  him,  'if  I've  been  harsh  I'm 
sorry — suppose  we  start  all  over  again — what  do 
you  say?  I  don't  want  to  cross  you  in  anything 
if  I  can  help  it — I  want  to  help  you.'  ' 

My  abrupt  ejaculation  halted  Jenkins  an  instant, 
then  he  proceeded : 

"  'I  say,  do  you  mean  that?'  asks  young  Mr.  Bi— 


THE    DEMON    RUM  319 

I  mean,  this  young  fellow" — Jenkins  stirred  nerv 
ously — "and  you  says,  kinder  laughing :  'there's  my 
hand  on  it !'  and  then  you  both  shook. 

"  'One  minute/  says  the  boy,  still  looking  kinder 
puzzled  and  uncertain,  'I  want  to  know  what  about 
Frances.  How  do  we  stand  about  that?' 

"You  just  laughed  sorter  and  went  up  and  clapped 
him  right  on  the  shoulder  and  you  says :  'Why,  if 
you  can,  my  son,  just  go  in  and  win  her.  /  don't 
care!' — and  you  said  it  hearty-like.  You  went  on: 
'I  haven't  a  word  to  say — in  fact,  I'd  be  only  too 
glad  to  see  you  succeed.' ' 

Here  I  straightened  with  almost  a  screech : 

"What?  I  said  that?  Oh,  now,  Jenkins,  you — 
oh,  you're  mistaken!" 

Jenkins  eyed  me  sorrowfully. 

"Your  words,  sir,  exactly,  and  then  you  went  on, 
kinder  persuadingly :  'Why,  I  haven't  meant  to 
stand  in  your  way  at  all !'  ' 

I  groaned. 

"Go  on !"  I  breathed  through  my  teeth.  Then  I 
straightened  forward.  "What  did  the  judge  call 
that  punch — what  kind?" 

"Heidelberg  punch,  sir," — a  sympathetic  pause  as 
I  swept  my  hand  through  my  hair.  "Yes,  sir,  it  cer 
tainly  must  be  something  high — oh,  awful,  sir!" 

He  went  on  as  I  dipped  my  head  at  him.  "Then 
this  young  chap  catches  you  by  the  hand  and  he  says, 
"Why,  you're  a  brick,  after  all!'  And  you  says: 
'Yes,  we'll  get  along  better  now,  my  boy,  and  you 


320         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

want  to  be  mighty  grateful  to  Dicky  Lightnut  for 
it.'  And  this  young  fellow  says,  kinder  smiling: 
'Indeed,  I  am!'  And  then  him  and  you  just  shook 
hands  again  all  over." 

Jenkins  stopped  for  breath,  but  I  didn't  say  a 
word.  By  Jove,  it  all  made  me  a  bit  sick,  don't  you 
know.  Oh,  I  must  have  been  maudlin,  that's  what 
— maudlin.  I  managed  to  wag  my  head  to  start 
him  off  again ;  couldn't  speak,  you  know ! 

"Yes,  sir."  Then  you  says :  'That's  all  right,  now, 
my  boy;  so  you  run  along,  because  I'm  awfully  busy. 
To-morrow  we'll  talk  some  more.' 

'  'Bully !'  says  the  chap.  'Good  night,  old  man !' 
Then  he  turns  back,  kinder  smiling  sidewise.  Tt's 
sure  on  the  level,  is  it,  that  you're  going  to  let  me 
have  a  clear  road  with  Frances?' 

'  'Oh,  bother  Frances !'  you  says  laughing.  'Yes, 
yes,  and  when  you  win  her,  she'll  be  to  me  as  my 
own  girl.  And  I  know  I'll  have  her  love,  too.' 

'  'What's  that  ?'  says  the  young  fellow,  kinder 
frowning.  And  you  says,  easy-like,  'Why,  we'll 
just  be  one  happy  family.'  Then  you  chuckled  like 
you  was  mighty  pleased  and  says :  'And  I  think  she 
is  learning  to  like  me  pretty  well  already.  Why,  do 
you  know  what  she  did  to-night?  She  came  right 
up  to  me  and  in  the  sweetest  way  kissed  me  good 
night.'  " 

"Oh !"  I  said,  digging  my  fingers  into  the  bed 
clothes,  "Oh!" 

"Yes,  sir!"  said  Jenkins  chokily.     He  went  on: 


THE    DEMON    RUM  321 

"This  young  fellow  just  marches  right  close  up  to 
you  and  says,  speaking  kinder  quiet  and  his  eyes 
shining,  'You  say  Frances  kissed  you?'  And  you 
sorter  gave  a  laugh  and  dug  him  in  the  side  and  you 
says,  'I  do  believe  the  boy  is  jealous!  Why,  yes, 
you  rascal,  she  certainly  did — she  kissed  me !' 

"  'Well,  it's  a  lie !'  he  says  back,  pointing  at  you 
with  his  finger.  'Because  it  ain't  like  her.'  And  he 
got  closer. 

"  'See  here,'  he  says,  'have  you  just  been  trying  to 
get  gay  with  me  to-night?  Huh! — well,  I'm  just 
going  to  box  your  jaws  for  luck !' 

"'What?'  you  gasps — 'what's  that?' — and  you 
storms  up  to  him — 'Why,  you  young  puppy,  do  you 
know  who  you're  talking  to?'  you  says. 

"  'Bah !'  he  says,  and  he  just  goes  up  and  snaps  his 
fingers  in  your  face.  You  chokes  kinder,  and  then 
you  yells  at  him:  'Why,  you  young  ruffian,  I've 
spanked  you  before,  and  I  can  do  it  again — ' 

"  'Yah !'  he  says,  making  faces  at  you.  'You 
spanked !  You  hit  me  when  I  wasn't  looking.  My 
foot  slipped.' 

"  'Foot  slipped,  you  blanked  fool !'  you  shouts  at 
him,  and  then — "  Jenkins  wiped  his  forehead — 
"Then  the  next  thing  I  see,  you  mixed." 

"Ah!"  I  breathed  with  relief.     "That's  better!" 

I  chuckled.     Then  suddenly  I  felt  remorseful. 

"Where  did  I  hit  him  this  time,  Jenkins — did  you 
notice?  Was  he  hurt  much?" 

Jenkins  looked  down,  avoiding  my  eyes.     "Um, 


322          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

not  exactly,  sir,"  he  said  ;  "in  fact,  it  was — er — kind 
er  the  other  way." 

I  stared,  aghast. 

"You  don't  mean,  Jenkins — 

Jenkins  evidently  did !  His  eyes  expressed  both 
pity  and  embarrassment. 

"What  he  did  to  you," — he  rolled  his  glance  up 
ward,  trying  to  shape  the  idea — "I  believe,  sir,  it's 
what  you  might  call" — his  voice  dropped — "I  be 
lieve  it's  what  they  do  call  wiping  up  the  floor  with." 

I  closed  my  eyes  an  instant. 

"Finish !"  I  whispered,  feebly  flipping  my  hand  at 
him. 

"He  left  then,  sir,  but  the  noise  brought  Wilkes 
and  we  helped  you  up-stairs.  You  wouldn't  go  any 
farther  than  the  door  of  the  judge's  bedroom- 
wanted  to  tell  him,  we  supposed.  When  we  got  that 
far,  I  noticed  Mr.  Jack  Billings'  door — it's  right  op 
posite,  you  remember,  sir — was  standing  just  a  little 
open.  He  called  out  very  anxious  and  shrill :  'Oh, 
do  be  very  careful  of  the  pajamas !  My !  my !  I  hope 
the  pajamas  are  not  hurt !' 

"And  at  that,  you  just  bangs  inside  the  judge's 
room  and  in  about  two  minutes,  he  stuck  his  head 
out,  looking  kinder  towsled  and  mad  like  he'd  been 
waked  from  a  sound  sleep,  and  he  fires  a  wrapped- 
up  parcel  at  the  door  opposite  and  yells : 

"  'There  are  your  pajamas,  you  unnatural,  heart 
less  prodigal!  Pajamas,  indeed,  at  such  a  time!' 


THE    DEMON    RUM  323 

And  then  I  see  Mr.  Jack's  arm  come  out  and  fish 
the  package  inside. 

"Then  the  judge  turns  on  me  and  Wilkes  and  or 
dered  us  to  clear  out  and  to  go  to  bed.  And  Wilkes 
said  we'd  best  do  it  because  the  judge  would  take 
care  of  you  and  get  you  to  your  room  quietly.  And 
the  last  thing  I  heard  before  he  slammed  inside  his 
room  was : 

"  There's  one  thing ;  I've  got  a  daughter !' ' 

I  looked  at  Jenkins  miserably.  He  was  right;  he 
did  have  a  daughter,  and  I  wanted  her.  But  just 
now,  I  wished  with  all  heart  that  she  was  somebody's 
— anybody  else's  daughter — than  that  of  the  man 
who  had  witnessed  my  humiliation. 

And  afterwards — 

How  had  he  managed  to  get  me  to  my  room? 
And  had  she  seen  or  heard  me?  Oh,  she  must  have ! 

Well,  nothing  mattered  now — nothing  could  ever 
matter  any  more.  It  was  some  miserable  comfort 
to  feel,  and  know,  that  nothing  worse  could  ever 
happen ! 

Why,  there  was  nothing  worse  left  in  all  the 
world.  By  Jove,  I  was  sure  of  that  much ! 

And  just  then  a  knock  sounded. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

I  TOUCH  BOTTOM 

"TDARDON,  sir,  for  not  waiting  till  you  came 
•*-  down,"  the  butler  was  saying,  "but  Mr.  Billings 
was  just  so  set  on  me  bringing  this  to  you,  I  had 
to." 

He  had  entered,  responding  to  Jenkins'  invitation, 
bearing  in  his  hand  a  gray  paper  parcel. 

"For  me?"  I  questioned,  as  he  laid  it  on  the  table, 
and  I  eyed  it  ominously.  Yet  it  could  not  be  the 
same  I  had  sent  Billings  myself — I  could  see  that — 
for  it  was  smaller,  more  compact,  and  in  a  different 
wrapper.  But  I  was  afraid  to  examine  it. 

"Yes,  sir — he's  very  bad  this  morning,  sir;  the — 
er — that  is,  something  last  night  seems  to  have  ex 
cited  him." 

His  eye  roved  eloquently  between  Jenkins  and 
myself.  He  continued  soberly : 

"He's  locked  me  and  Perkins  out  of  his  rooms 
again,  and  wouldn't  open  the  door  only  wide  enough 
to  stick  this  through.  And  his  message" — hesitat 
ingly — "he  said  just  tell  you  you  had  better  get 
these  pajamas  back  where  they  came  from  just  as 

324 


I    TOUCH    BOTTOM  325 

quickly  as  you  could — you  would  if  you  were  wise, 
he  said." 

"Oh!"  I  uttered,  dazed  by  this  new  blow.  So  it 
was  her  pajamas. 

But  there  was  more  of  the  message — I  could  see 
it  in  Wilkes'  eye. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  went  on  as  I  gave  him  a  nod.  "Mr. 
Billings  called  through  the  door-crack — and  his  voice 
was  particularly  shrill — screechy-like — very  unnat 
ural,  sir — and  he  said :  'You  tell  him  I  say  he'll  find 
it  very  dangerous  to  keep  them  by  him  a  moment; 
tell  him  my  advice  is  to  return  them  immediately!' ' 

Here  the  butler  hesitated  an  instant  and  added: 
"And  he  said  for  me  to  try  to  remember  three  let 
ters  I  was  to  mention — said  you  would  understand." 

"Three  letters?"  I  repeated  dully. 

"Yes,  sir,  three  letters — I  did  remember  'em,  too, 
because  they  happened  to  be  the  initials  of  a  young 
woman  I — h'm!  Q.  E.  D.,  sir." 

"Q.  E.  D.  ?"  I  said,  puzzled  and  miserable. 
"What's  Q.  E.  D.  ?"  And  then  an  idea  startled  me. 

"Oh  I  say,  you  mean — er — P.  D.  Q. — eh, 
Wilkes  ?"  It  sounded  like  Jack ! 

But  he  seemed  sure  he  didn't;  insisted  on  Q.  E.  D. 
When  he  had  withdrawn,  I  sat  there  a  moment, 
swallowing  hard.  By  Jove,  when  a  chap  has  had  the 
hardest  blow  of  his  life,  and  that,  too,  from  his  best 
friend,  it's  devilish  hard  to  come  up  smiling.  I  took 
a  deep  breath  and  tried  to  pull  myself  together.  I 
knew,  of  course,  it  was  all  over — everything;  it  was 


326         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

all  over,  just  as  everything  was  beginning  with  me. 
For  I  knew  my  life  never  had  been  worth  a  whoop 
before.  Why,  by  Jove,  I  never  even  noticed  how 
beautiful  were  the  trees  and  the  sunshine  through 
the  leaves  until  the  last  two  days !  But  I  had  seen  it, 
because  she  had  seen  it !  And  now — now  it  was  all 
dull  and  flat  and  dead  again,  and  all  the  world  was 
gray !  Ever  been  there — eh  ? 

I  climbed  heavily  to  my  feet,  for  I  knew,  after  all, 
he  was  acting  devilish  considerately  as  he  saw  things, 
and  I  must  just  have  the  decency  to  do  as  he  said 
— and  then  go.  I  couldn't  explain,  of  course. 
Mustn't  try  to  do  that — so  dashed  clumsy,  I  would 
only  complicate  it  for  her.  No,  I—  By  Jove,  I 
suddenly  felt  sick.  Sat  there,  doubled  forward,  my 
head  between  my  hands,  as  the  butler  retired,  softly 
closing  the  door  behind  him. 

Presently  I  pulled  myself  together.  Jenkins,  as 
he  helped  me  dress,  eyed  me  in  a  frightened  way,  his 
face  kind  of  pale  and  greenish.  Neither  of  us  said 
a  word,  but  I  knew  I  had  his  sympathy,  poor  fellow 
—and  it  helped !  Then,  with  the  parcel  in  my  hand, 
I  marched  slowly  down  the  stairs,  forgetting  even 
some  instructions  I  should  have  given  Jenkins. 

She  was  there  in  the  living-room — she  and  the 
frump.  And  when  I  saw  her  dear  face  and  realized 
what  disaster  had  come  between  us,  I  felt  things 
whirling  around  me  like  a  jolly  what's-its-name  and 
dropped  my  hand  on  a  chair-back  hard,  until  I  could 
stiffen  and  smile  up.  But,  by  Jove,  she  was  on ! 


I    TOUCH    BOTTOM  327 

"Is  anything  the  matter,  Mr.  Lightnut?"  she 
asked,  coming  toward  me — and  how  kindly,  almost 
tenderly,  her  sweet  face  softened ! 

"Is  it  anything  about  Jacky?"  snapped  the  frump. 

I  shook  my  head  and  just  gently  placed  the  little 
wrapped  parcel  in  Frances'  hands.  My  hand  shook 
so  I  almost  dropped  it. 

"Some — something  of  yours  that  was  lost,"  I 
said,  and  I  knew  my  voice  shook  a  little,  too.  "I 
was  fortunate  in  recovering  it."  I  looked  at  her — 
for  the  last  time,  I  knew — and  it  was  just  my  devil 
ish  luck  that  she  got  misty  and  dim.  I  \vhispered 
hoarsely:  "Open  when  you  are  alone." 

And  then  I  walked  straight  out  of  the  house ! 

A  gardener  directed  me  to  the  park  gates,  but 
there  were  so  many  dashed  curves  and  terraces  I 
got  hopelessly  twisted,  and  pretty  soon  didn't  know 
whether  I  was  leaving  or  coming,  don't  you  know. 
I  sat  down  on  an  iron  bench  to  think  it  over,  and,  by 
Jove,  I  must  have  dozed  off,  for  the  first  thing  I 
knew  some  one  yelled  my  name,  and  I  looked  up  to 
see — Billings ! 

He  was  looking  a  bit  soiled  and  disheveled,  and 
his  eyes  had  a  hunted  look. 

"What  the  devil  are  you  doing,  sitting  here  ?"  he 
demanded. 

"I — I'm  going,"  I  said,  hurriedly  getting  to  my 
feet.  "Just  resting— I—" 

"They  told  me  I  would  find  you  here,"  he  said. 
"Here  you  are,  sitting  out  here  in  the  hot  sun  with- 


328         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

out  any  hat!  Good  thing,  Dicky,  you  haven't  got 
any — h'm !"  Then  he  panted  at  me :  "Say,  nice  way 
you  and  my  sister  treated  me — I  don't  think!  But 
I'll  forgive  you  this  time."  Here  he  linked  his  arm 
in  mine.  "I'll  forgive  you,  if  you  never  say  any 
thing  at  the  club  about  those  damned  black  pajamas 
« — nor  in  the  family,  either.  Great  Scott !  I  wouldn't 
have  this  get  out !" 

"I  wouldn't  think  of  such  a  thing!"  I  exclaimed, 
immeasurably  relieved,  but  indignant,  as  well.  He 
led  me  across  the  turf. 

"Oh,  I've  had  an  awful  time,  Dicky!  Awful!"— 
he  lifted  his  hands — "Oh,  I  don't  want  to  tell  you 
about  it — I  don't  want  even  to  think  about  it  my 
self!" 

I  murmured  something  sympathetic,  for  I  felt 
sympathetic  with  anything;  besides,  there  still  lin 
gered  a  bit  of  headache  from  the  Heidelberg  punch 
and  I  could  imagine  from  that  what  his  feelings 
must  have  been. 

"By  George,  Dicky,"  he  burst  out  again,  "the  way 
I've  been  shut  up  and  treated  just  seems  like  some 
infernal  conspiracy.  Good  thing  Jack  Ellsworth's 
dad  had  a  pull  with  the  mayor — tell  you  all  the 
whole  rotten  business  when  I  can  talk  about  it 
quietly." 

"That's  right!  that's  right!"  I  said  soothingly, 
"wouldn't  think  about  it  at  all  now,  old  chap !"  No 
use  reminding  him,  you  know,  that  he  had  shut 
himself  up.  Besides,  the  wandering  of  the  mind 


I    TOUCH    BOTTOM  329 

to  Jack  Ellsworth  and  his  father  showed  me  that 
even  yet  he  was  not  quite  himself. 

Billings  mopped  his  forehead.  "My,  but  it  was 
hot  in  that  hole!"  he  exclaimed.  "And  that  re 
minds  me — have  you  seen  the  governor  this  morn 
ing?  No?  Well,  talk  about  hot!  George,  but  the 
old  man  was  hot  under  the  collar  when  I  saw  him 
just  now !  And  he  looks  like  he  had  been  dropped 
from  a  shot  tower!  It's  this  case  he's  working  on, 
I  guess,  or  else  it's  about  Francis.  He's  found  out 
what  /  knew." 

"Do — do  you  think  so?"  I  questioned  nervously. 

"Pretty  sure,"  said  Billings  carelessly.  "Fact  is, 
he's  already  fixing  up  to  send  Francis  to  some  kind 
of  reformatory — heard  him  making  the  arrange 
ments  over  the  'phone" — I  was  glad  he  didn't  look 
at  me  as  he  rattled  on — "and,  by  the  way,  the  gov 
ernor  told  me  to  tell  you  not  to  say  a  word  to 
Francis — I  suppose  you'll  understand." 

Understand?   Oh,  yes,  7  understood!" 

"And  he  said  he  wanted  to  see  you." 

"Is — is  he  here?"  I  stammered,  pulling  back. 

"Thank  goodness,   no.      Gone   to  meet   Colonel 

Francis  Kirkland — say,  don't  say  anything  about  it 

—wants  to  surprise  his  daughter,  you  know.     On 

his  way  to  London  via  San  Francisco — arrived  at 

Washington  a  few  days  ago." 

Oh,  the  frump's  father!  Much  I  cared!  But 
knowing  how  interested  he  was  in  her,  I  tried  to 
show  an  interest. 


330         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Colonel  Francis — er — isn't  his  daughter  named 
after  him?"  And  I  felt  myself  grow  jolly  red,  for 
I  remembered  that  she  had  told  me  that  about  her 
friend  as  she  sat  on  the  arm  of  the  Morris  chair  and 
in  the  black  pajamas. 

"Hanged  if  /  know,"  said  Billings  carelessly.  "I 
don't  know  what  her  name  is — don't  remember  that 
I  ever  heard."  He  whistled.  "Say,  but  did  you 
ever  see  anything  as  stunningly  pretty  in  your  life?" 

I  balked.  By  Jove,  I  had  been  doing  some  mild 
lying  within  the  past  twenty-four  hours,  but  this 
was  asking  too  much !  Dash  me  if  I  just  could  go 
it,  that's  all.  But  he  didn't  seem  to  notice. 

He  slapped  me  on  the  back.  "By  George,  Dicky, 
there's  just  the  girl  cut  out  for  you,  old  chap — take 
my  tip.  I  think  she  likes  you,  too — could  see  it  just 
now  when  I  was  talking  about  you." 

So  that  was  it,  I  reflected  gloomily.  The  frump 
now  was  to  be  worked  off  on  me,  and  I  was  expected 
to  stand  for  it.  I  was  to  be  a  sort  of  what-you- 
call-it  offering  on  the  altar  of  friendship.  That  was 
the  condition  upon  which  he  was  patching  up  things ! 

Billings  laughed  suddenly.  "But,  oh,  I  tell  you  it 
would  be  hard  on  Francis — a  regular  knockout,  by 
George!" 

Devilish  brutal  for  him  to  say  so,  I  thought. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  I  questioned  dismally. 
"Would  Frances  really  care?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  said  lightly.  "Soon  get  over  it, 
though — puppy  love,  you  know." 


I    TOUCH    BOTTOM  331 

Puppy  love,  indeed!  By  Jove,  how  I  hated  Bil 
lings  ! 

He  went  on :  "Suppose  you  never  heard  any 
thing  of  the  professor  and  the  pajamas?" 

I  had  not,  and  I  was  devilish  sick  of  pajamas, 
anyway. 

"And  say,  Dicky,  I  don't  remember  that  I  ever 
thanked  you  properly,  old  man,  for  putting  up  my 
kid  brother  the  other  night.  He  says  you  treated 
him  like  a  brick  and  that  you  and  he  got  to  be  great 
pals.  So  much  obliged,  old  chap,  because  he  wanted 
to  go  running  around,  you  know." 

"Your  brother?"  I  questioned,  astonished,  and  I 
guess  my  face  must  have  showed  it,  for  Billings' 
eyes,  first  opening  wide,  narrowed,  and  his  counte 
nance  began  to  gather  an  angry  red.  He  stopped 
short. 

"Didn't  he  stay  with  you?"  he  snapped. 

I  stared  blankly.  "Why,  Billings — I  didn't  know 
— I  didn't  remember  you  had  a  brother.  I  never 
have  seen  him." 

fillings'  face  swelled  redder,  and  he  struck  his 
fist  down  with  an  oath.  He  looked  angrily  toward 
the  house.  Then  he  stepped  hurriedly  in  advance  of 
me. 

"Excuse  me,  old  chap,  will  you?"  he  said,  his 
voice  hardened.  "Will  see  you  at  luncheon — make 
yourself  at  home,  won't  you?" 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

UNDER  THE  PERGOLA 

MAKE  myself  at  home!     I  sneaked  under  the 
quiet  shade  in  a  convenient  pergola,  and,  drop 
ping  upon  a  bench,  gazed  gloomily  at  the  sunlight 
patches  at  my  feet. 

"Oh,  here  you  are,  eh?"  broke  harshly  upon  me. 

I  looked  up,  startled  from  my  mood.  There, 
hands  upon  his  hips  and  scowling,  stood — the  chauf 
feur! 

I  frowned,  but  the  fellow  just  moved  nearer. 

"I  guess  mamma's  baby  don't  feel  so  spry  this 
morning!"  he  jeered.  "Does  its  little  heady-cums 
ache-urns — eh  ?" 

I  grunted  rather  wearily.  "If  it  does,  my  good 
fellow,  it's  none  of  your  business.  Don't  bother 
me!"  I  shifted  the  other  way. 

"Oh,  isn't  it?" — his  tone  quickened  truculently— 
"Well,  maybe  I'll  make  it  my  business !"  He  jerked 
his  arm  at  me,  continuing  sharply :  "Look  here, 
you  glass-eyed  monkey-jack,  don't  you  get  flip  with 
me  this  morning" — he  laughed  coarsely — "or  I'll 
think  you  want  some  more !  Do  you  ?" 

I  turned  my  head  and,  polishing  my  monocle  care 
fully,  gave  it  a  tight  screw  and  took  him  in  slowly, 

332 


UNDER    THE    PERGOLA  333 

beginning  with  his  yellow  mop  of  hair  and  ending 
with  the  toes  of  his  soiled  canvas  shoes.  By  Jove,  I 
was  sure  they'd  never  been  whitened  since  he  bought 
them. 

I  seemed  to  anger  him.  He  uttered  a  sort  of 
snort  with  a  mutter  uncomplimentary  and  strode  for 
ward,  towering  above  me  where  I  sat. 

"Answer,  when  I'm  talking  to  you,  you  sap- 
headed  fool,"  he  bellowed,  "or  I'll  wring  your  neck ! 
I  asked  if  you  wanted  some  more." 

I  stretched  my  arms,  trying  their  muscle  room  in 
a  lengthy  yawn,  and  blinked  at  him  with  my  free  eye, 
wondering  where  the  deuce  he  got  the  crimson  hat 
band.  By  Jove,  that  was  the  most  dashed  imperti 
nent  thing  of  all ! 

"More  what?"  I  drawled  indifferently. 

"More — of  that!" — viciously — and  thwack  his 
knuckles  struck  against  the  iron  back  of  the  jolly 
bench.  For  I  wasn't  there,  don't  you  know. 

"Huh !  Think  you're  some  smart,  don't  you  ?"  he 
sneered,  hitching  his  trousers  band.  "Now,  look 
here" — he  leveled  his  finger — "you're  a  guest  here 
and  I  know  I  oughtn't  to  do  it,  and  I  hate  it  for 
Jack's  sake,  but  I'm  feeling  I'll  just  have  to  give 
you  another  trimming  this  lovely  morning!"  He 
chuckled,  rolling  his  lips  and  spreading  them  till  I 
could  see  every  tooth.  He  moved  toward  me  lei 
surely,  slipping  up  his  sleeves.  "What  you  got  last 
night,  sonny,  was  for  your  own  sake,  but  this  time 
it's  going  to  be  for  Frances' — you  fishworm!" 


334         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"Guess  we'll  leave  Miss  Frances  out  of  it,  don't 
you  know,"  I  remonstrated.  Dash  the  fellow's  im 
pudence  !  Then,  remembering  I  was  wearing  a  coat 
of  dark  cheviot  that  was  the  very  devil  for  showing 
every  speck  of  dust,  I  slipped  out  of  it  and  looked 
about  for  somewhere  to  hang  it.  Not  a  dashed 
place,  of  course ;  not  a  thing,  you  know,  except  nails 
here  and  there  in  the  wooden  uprights  of  the  pergola, 
and  of  course  nails  wouldn't  do  to  hang  a  coat  on. 
So  I  just  folded  the  jolly  thing  carefully — very  care 
fully,  just  as  I  had  seen  Jenkins  do — and  then  I 
held  it  on  my  arm. 

The  chap  had  been  shifting  about  me  in  a  curve, 
clucking  his  tongue  contemptuously  and  muttering, 
and  getting  more  jolly  red-eyed  and  abusive  every 
minute. 

"Be  a  man!"  he  snarled.  "You  blame  tailor's 
dummy,  be  a  man!"  And  he  struck  his  chest  a  blow 
to  show  me  what  he  meant. 

And  just  then  I  remembered  to  smooth  my  hair- 
part. 

"Oh,  you —  With  a  growl  like  a  bear,  he  swept 
both  his  hands  to  his  head  and  whirled  them  through 
his  great  yellow  pile,  leaving  each  hair  standing  on 
end  like  the  quills  on  the  fretful  what's-its-name. 
Then  he  danced  toward  me,  pausing  irregularly  to 
double  over  with  a  chuckle. 

"Oh,  this  is  too  good!"  he  yelped.  "But  I  can't 
help  it;  I  jest  can't  refuse  the  money,  Lizzie!  I 


UNDER    THE    PERGOLA  335 

know    they'll  send    me    away    for    this,    but — Oh, 
mamma !" 

And  over  he'd  double  again. 

Oddest  thing,  isn't  it,  how  your  jolly  active  mind 
will  wander  at  the  rummest  times;  and  I  had  a 
thought  then  of  how,  when  I  was  a  delicate  boy, 
bully  old  Doctor  Dake  and  Doctor  Madden  had  pre 
scribed  a  punching-bag,  and  later  boxing-gloves. 
And  I  thought  with  a  pang  of  what  ripping  times 
the  governor  and  I  had,  scrapping,  and  of  what 
knocks  he  gradually  began  to  give  me  until  he  forced 
me  to  learn  to  come  back  harder.  Jove,  what  cork 
ing  hours  we  had !  And  then  when  Chugsey,  the  re 
tired  English  light-weight  champion,  came  to  butler 
— oh,  what  smashing  three-handed  rounds  we  used 
to  have !  Bully  old  governor,  who  was  never  so  busy 
on  his  sermons  but  what  he  could  take  a  walk  or 
a  ride  with  me ;  or  talk  with  me,  or  fight  with  me ! 
Why,  he- 

By  Jove,  my  dashed  monocle  got  so  cloudy  of  a 
sudden,    I   almost   missed    the   chauffeur's   move — • 
almost,  don't  you  know ! 
And  then — 

"I  sayt  you  know!"  I  said  disgustedly,  as  I 
screwed  my  monocle  at  him  there,  his  big  yellow  mat 
sticking  out  of  sight  through  the  jolly  vines.  "Aw 
fully  raw  tiling  to  strike  at  a  man  and  leave  your 
guard  open  like  that — I  could  have  put  it  over  your 
heart,  don't  you  know !" 


336         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

I  heard  a  little  sound  behind  me  and  there  was 
she! 

"Oh!"  I  gasped  as  I  slipped  into  my  coat.  And 
now  I  was  miserable,  for  I  remembered  how  kind 
this  chauffeur,  Scoggins,  had  been  to  her.  And  for 
her  to  have  seen  me  in  this  vulgar  row ! 

"Yes,  I  saw  it  all,"  she  said,  as  I  moved  toward 
her,  murmuring  some  jolly  effort  at  apology.  Her 
eyes  were  shining.  "I  saw  it  all,  sir — and  heard. 
And  just  when  I  had  hunted  you  up  with  these !"- 
and  then  I  saw  that  her  arms  were  burgeoning  with 
roses.  "See  what  I've  been  doing  for  you,  sir!" 

"For  me?"  By  Jove,  it  was  all  I  could  say  as  I 
took  them! 

"And  you  ran  off!"  She  pouted  adorably — nat 
urally,  too,  dash  it.  I've  seen  them  put  it  on  when 
they  looked  like  they  had  toothache.  "How  am  I 
ever  going  to  thank  you  about  the  pajamas?"  By 
Jove,  her  big  blue  eyes  looked  me  frankly  in  the 
face.  There  was  never  a  quiver  of  embarrassment. 
"It's  wonderful — and  to  find  them  here!" 

"I'd — I'd  have  got  'em  to  you  sooner,"  I  faltered, 
swallowing,  "but  they've  been  lost  a  day  or  two— 
thief  stole  them  from  my  rooms,  you  know." 

"How  on  earth  did  you  ever  get  hold  of  them  ?  I 
never  expected  to  see  those  pajamas  again.  Oh,  you 
must  tell  me  all  about  how  you  managed  it !" — and 
we  moved  away — "I  just  ivish  father  were  here !" 

/  didn't!  Dash  it,  it  made  me  squirm  to  think  of 
his  return. 


UNDER    THE    PERGOLA  337 

As  we  left  the  pergola  behind,  I  looked  backward 
through  its  arch,  and  there  was  the  chauffeur,  stand 
ing  in  the  shadows,  looking  after  us.  And  long 
after,  as  we  turned  from  the  straight  avenue  leading 
through  the  pergola,  I  descried  his  figure,  still  look 
ing  after  us,  unchanged,  immovable. 

It  was  rum ! 

But  I  had  other  things  to  think  of  as  we  sat  out  in 
the  loggia — chiefly  of  her,  herself;  withal,  wonder 
ing  gloomily  what  her  father  would  say  when  he 
found  I  had  disobeyed  his  injunction  about  not 
speaking  to  her.  Presently  the  summons  to  lunch 
eon  came,  and  we  went  in. 

From  up-stairs  came  sounds  indicating  great  hi 
larity  on  Billings'  part.  In  fact,  we  could  hear 
him  slapping  his  knee  and  screaming.  The  frump 
looked  at  me  anxiously. 

"Why,  I  understood  he  was  all  right  again,"  she 
said  aside. 

I  shook  my  head  dubiously.  I  had  seen  in  the 
past  day  or  two  how  rapidly  Billings'  moods  shifted. 
Twenty  minutes  since  he  had  looked  enraged. 

"Oh,  this  is  too  good — but  keep  it  mum!"  we 
heard.  "Come  on,  Professor!" 

"Professor?"  The  frump  looked  at  Frances,  then 
at  Wilkes  inquiringly. 

"I  didn't  know,  miss,"  he  murmured  contritely. 
"  'S  why  I  didn't  mention  it." 

We  were  crossing  the  great  hall  in  the  direction  of 
the  beautiful  dining-room  beyond — Elizabethan,  I 


338         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

think  Frances  said  it  was.  We  all  paused  expect 
antly  as  Billings  rolled  down  the  stairs  in  his  usual 
jolly,  elephantine  way.  And  then  on  the  landing 
appeared  an  apparition — not  only  an  apparition,  but, 
by  Jove,  a  scarecrow,  as  well ! 

Professor  Doozenberry,  blandly  smiling — his  rail- 
like  figure  shrouded  flabbily  in  one  of  Billings'  larg 
est  and  loudest  suits!  Billings  went  through  the 
form  of  introductions,  chuckling  idiotically  the 
while.  But  the  professor  scarcely  noticed  any  one 
but  the  frump. 

"Don't  wait,  Wilkes,"  Billings  directed.  His  nod 
beckoned  me  aside. 

"Gentleman  sulking  in  his  tent  over  here  I  want 
you  to  meet,"  he  said.  And  I  followed  him  to  the 
library.  A  figure  pacing  the  floor  turned  sharply. 
By  Jove,  it  was  the  chauffeur,  and  how  he  did  scowl 
at  me! 

"Now,  young  man,"  said  Billings  sternly,  "per 
haps  you'll  have  the  nerve  to  tell  me  before  Air. 
Lightnut  himself  that  you  were  his  guest  on  your 
way  home  from  Harvard." 

"I  certainly  was!"  He  made  the  statement,  chin 
up  and  eyes  blazing.  "I  was  his  guest  at  the  Kahoka 
Wednesday  night,  and  he  knows  it." 

Billings  looked  at  me  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Don't  bother  denying  it,  old  man,"  he  said.  "It's 
all  right." 

"Oh,  but  I  say — it  isn't!"  I  exclaimed  in  dis 
gusted  amaze.  "Dashed  impertinence,  you  know — 


UNDER    THE    PERGOLA  339 

never  saw  this  fellow  before  the  morning  at  the — 
er — boat,  and  day  before  yesterday  when  I — '  I 
halted,  remembering. 

But  the  fellow  was  shaking  his  finger  at  me. 

"A-a-a !"  he  jeered  like  a  school-boy.  "Why  don't 
you  finish?  Bet  you  don't  know,  Jack,  that  this 
paragon  friend  of  yours  was  up  here  on  the  train 
day  before  yesterday."  Billings  stared,  for  he  did 
not  know. 

The  chap  grew  more  impudent.  "Yah,  see  him 
turn  red !" 

"By  Jove !"  I  exclaimed,  warming  up,  you  know. 
"Say,  Billings,  who  the  devil  is  this  fellow?"  And 
I  advanced  angrily — dashed  annoyed,  you  know. 

Billings  interposed.  "My  brother,"  he  said 
quietly. 

"Yes,  his  brother,"  almost  shouted  the  other. 
Then  he  lowered  his  voice  at  Billings'  command: 
"And  I  say,  you  didn't  tell  Jack  you  were  on  the 
train  yesterday,  posing  as  a  'Mr.  Smith,'  and  that 
you  insulted  Frances."  He  shook  off  his  brother's 
hand  angrily.  "Oh,  yes  he  did — sister  told  me 
about  it !  I  knew  it  was  you  when  I  got  to  thinking 
about  it  this  morning !"  He  panted  for  breath.  "I 
can't  call  you  a  liar,  Lightnut,  when  you  say  I 
wasn't  at  your  rooms,  because  you're  a  quicker  hit 
ter  than  I  am,  and — "  He  looked  around  and 
shrugged.  "And  because  we  are  in  this  house. 
But  you're  an  infernal  hypocrite,  and  I  want  Jack  to 
know  it."  He  laughed  mockingly  and  faced  his 


340         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

brother.  "Ask  your  friend,  Mr.  Lightnut,  about 
that  girl  in  black  pajamas  in  his  rooms!" 

And  he  flung  himself  from  the  room  with  a  Par 
thian  shot :  "Ask  him  to  tell  you  about  her  as  he 
did  me.  Ask  him  who  it  was!" 

Billings  seemed  to  groan.  "More  black  paja 
mas!"  he  muttered. 

I  faced  him  eagerly.  "I  never  told  him  about 
her — I'll  swear  I  didn't,"  I  pleaded  miserably. 
"You  know  all  there  is  to  know,  Jack.  I  wouldn't 
tell  anybody  in  the  world  a  thing  like  that.  I — love 
her  too  well.  Much  less  would  I  go  and  tell  her 
own  brother." 

"Wha-a-a-t  ?"  Billings'  fat  body  almost  leaped 
into  the  air.  "What  the  devil — say,  old  chap,  what 
are  you  talking  about?" 

"And,  besides,  she's  forgiven  me,"  I  persisted 
gloomily.  "And  I  love  her — and — and  we're  going 
to  be  married — or  I  hope  so,  dash  it !" 

Billings  stared  at  me  with  popping  eyes  for  an 
instant.  Then  he  lifted  my  chin  and  looked  at  me 
anxiously.  "Are  you  quite  well,  old  man?"  he 
asked.  "Headache,  or  anything  like  that?  By 
George,  it's  from  sitting  out  in  that  sun  without  a 
hat.  Marry  my  sister?"  He  wagged  his  head  lugu 
briously.  "What — Elizabeth?  Oh,  good  heavens !" 

"No — Frances,"  I  explained  anxiously. 

He  stared.  "Francis?"  Then  his  arm  led  me 
out.  "Come  along,  old  chap,"  he  said  with  an  air  of 
concern.  "We'll  get  a  little  ice — 


UNDER    THE    PERGOLA  341 

There  was  a  bustle  near  the  hall  entrance,  and  I 
heard  a  commanding  voice  I  recognized  as  that  of 
Judge  Billings: 

"Come  right  in,  Colonel,  and  we  will  try  to  make 
you  forget  that  little  exasperation — do  you  know  I 
just  can't  get  over  the  idea  that  I've  seen  you  some 
where  and  recently —  Hello,  Jack!  Colonel  Kirk- 
land,  my  eldest  boy,  Jack — named  after  his  mother, 
Johanna.  Look  here,  Jack,  has  everybody  on  the 
blithering  police  force  gone  crazy  about  pajamas? 
Most  infernal  outrage — pardon  me,  Colonel  Kirk- 
land — three  policemen  wanted  to  arrest  him  on  de 
scription — dragnet  order,  they  said — for  stealing  a 
pair  of  black  silk  pajamas.  Ever  hear  the  like  of 
that?" 

Billings'  voice  murmured  something,  and  then  I 
was  dully  conscious  of  my  name  being  passed  and 
of  the  fact  that  I  was  limply  shaking  a  hand.  But 
I  don't  remember  uttering  a  word — couldn't,  by 
Jove,  for  my  jolly  tongue  was  paralyzed.  Didn't 
know  what  to  do;  didn't  know  what  to  say,  you 
know,  for  there  before  my  eyes,  recognizable  and 
unmistakable,  despite  frock  coat  and  white  choker 
tie,  was  the  figure  of  "Foxy  Grandpa." 

The  beefy  face,  white  mutton  chop  whiskers  and 
bald  head  were  as  indelibly  imprinted  on  my  mem 
ory  as  the  sunburn  line  that  fenced  his  fiery  face. 

And  this  was  the  frump's  father,  and  it  was  for 
him  she  was  scheming  to  make  a  home ! 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THE    CUB 

f  DIDN'T  go  in  to  luncheon. 

-*•  Instead,  I  lay  down  up  in  my  room,  wondering 
what  Jenkins  would  think  when  he  saw  Foxy 
Grandpa  a  guest  with  me  under  this  roof,  and  won 
dering  also  what  I  ought  to  do,  or  if  I  should  do 
anything.  I  came  to  the  conclusion  finally  that  I 
wouldn't  say  anything  for  the  present,  for  I  had 
about  all  the  complications  I  could  carry. 

Presently  I  went  down  to  the  living-room,  where 
they  were  all  assembled,  and  my  heart  leaped  as  I 
thought  I  detected  a  brightening  in  Frances'  face 
as  I  entered. 

Billings  was  waving  the  frump  away  with  his  fat 
hand.  "Take  it  away,"  he  said.  "I  hate  bugs." 

"But,  Jacky,"  said  the  frump  pleadingly,  "I  think 
it's  a  phusiotus  gloriosa." 

"I  don't  care  if  it's  a  giraffe,"  said  Billings 
rudely. 

But  the  professor  was  already  across  the  room  to 
the  rescue. 

"Ha!  not  a  gloriosa,"  he  said  animatedly,  as  he 
snooped  over  the  little  greenish  thing  in  the  frump's 

342 


THE    CUB  343 

hand.  "Observe  the  shortened  prothorax  and  me- 
sothorax  and — " 

"And  metathorax ,"  chimed  in  the  frump,  her 
head  close  to  his.  "Hence— 

"It  is  a  phanaeus  carnlfex,"  said  the  professor 
positively. 

By  Jove,  it  looked  to  me  like  what  we  used  to  call 
a  dung  beetle ! 

And  then  the  two  cranks  went  out  in  the  sun  with 
butterfly  nets,  and  Frances  and  I  drifted  out  to  our 
pavilion  overlooking  the  broad  sweep  of  the  Tappan 
Zee.  As  yet,  her  father  had  said  nothing  to  me, 
but  I  knew  that  the  blow  might  fall  any  moment. 
Only  the  arrival  of  the  frump's  father  had  so  far 
saved  me.  And  though  I  had  gone  right  ahead 
violating  his  jolly  injunction  about  Frances,  I  kept 
a  sort  of  parole  with  him  by  avoiding  any  discus 
sion  of  things  that  I  knew  would  have  interested 
my  darling  the  most — that  is,  our  love  and  our 
future.  Later  we  took  a  drive  through  Sleepy  Hol 
low  and  the  Pocantico  Hills.  But  though  we  grew 
better  and  better  acquainted  every  minute,  I  couldn't 
help  feeling  devilish  disappointed,  for  never  once 
did  she  ever  call  me  "Dicky."  I  wondered  moodily 
whether  her  brother  had!  told  her  yet  of  his  plans 
for  me. 

In  the  evening,  the  younger  brother  showed  up  at 
dinner,  but  sulked,  which  I  thought  under  the  cir 
cumstances  was  about  the  most  considerate  thing  he 
could  have  done. 


344         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

Once  during  the  evening,  Billings,  who  had  been 
talking  with  the  professor,  turned  to  me.  "By  the 
way,  Dicky — those  pajamas,  you  know — what  did 
you  do  with  them  this  morning?"  He  and  the  pro 
fessor  whispered  again;  then  Billings  turned  back. 
"Gray  paper  parcel — um — you  know?" 

Know  ?    Dash  it,  of  course  I  knew,  but  I— 

"Why,  /  have  them  now,"  came  quietly  from  my 
companion,  "thanks  to  Mr.  Lightnut.  He  gave 
them  to  me  this  morning." 

"Gave  them  to  you !"  gasped  Billings.  He  whis 
pered  to  me:  "But  the  rubies,  you  cuckoo — you 
didn't  give  her  those?" 

Rubies  ?  Dash  it,  I  had  to  think  hard  to  remem 
ber  what  had  become  of  the  rubies.  But  I  got  the 
idea. 

""Why,  the  professor  has  those,"  I  reminded  him. 
"The  red  pajamas,  you  know — don't  you  remem 
ber?"  I  drew  him  aside. 

Billings  stared.  "But  he  says  he  returned  them," 
he  exclaimed,  cutting  an  odd  sidewise  look  at  the 
professor,  who  was  talking  to  Frances  and  the 
frump.  Billings  frowned. 

"Haven't  seen  them,"  I  said  carelessly,  for  I 
wanted  to  talk  to  her.  "Oh,  dash  the  rubies — wait 
till  morning!" 

Billings  looked  sourly  at  the  professor  and  went 
off  and  sat  alone.  He  seemed  put  out  about  the  old 
boy  not  returning  the  garments.  Never  seemed  to 
occur  to  him  that  the  professor  was  a  devilish  busy 


THE    CUB  345 

and  absent-minded  old  chap.  Might  not  return  them 
for  a  month.  /  knew  that. 

"Oh,  really,  Frances?"  the  frump  was  saying, 
"How  exceedingly  nice  of  you,  dear!"  The  pro 
fessor  was  occupied  for  the  moment  with  a  moth. 
"I  hope  I  won't  frighten  you  in  them  as  you  say 
your  maid  was  frightened  at  you.  If  pajamas  are 
unbecoming  to  you,  why  just  imagine  me  in  them!" 

By  Jove,  I  was  devilish  glad  I  was  not  supposed 
to  hear,  for  I  didn't  want  to  be  required  to  imagine 
it.  But  as  for  them  being  unbecoming  to  my  dar 
ling — well,  I  knew  she  knew  what  I  thought! 

Later,  when  the  evening  had  shaded  off  and  the 
ladies  had  left  us,  we  sat  in  the  smoking-room  talk 
ing  till  late.  I  was  astonished  to  find  Foxy  Grandpa 
devilish  entertaining  and  clever — not  a  bad  sort  at 
all.  He  seemed  to  have  no  recollection  of  me  at  all, 
and  therefore  no  grudges.  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
by  this  time  I  wasn't  going  to  marry  the  frump,  no 
matter  what  came  or  what  Billings  wanted,  and  I 
would  tell  him  so  in  the  morning.  But  whoever  did 
marry  her — and  it  looked  like  it  was  going  to  be 
the  professor — would  have  some  sort  of  compensa 
tion  in  Foxy  Grandpa's  entertaining  stories  of  East 
ern  scandal. 

Billings'  cub  brother  smoked  in  a  corner  of  the 
room  by  himself  and  drank  innumerable  slugs  of 
whisky  straight.  Once  I  saw  his  father  go  over  to 
him  and  seem  to  remonstrate,  but  without  effect. 

Billings  wanted  his  father  to  try  my  special  im- 


346         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

port  of  cigarettes,  so  I  sent  for  Jenkins,  who  had 
arrived,  to  bring  some  down.  And  when  he  saw 
Foxy  Grandpa  calmly  sitting  there  by  me,  pulling  at 
a  straw,  he  almost  lost  his  balance.  But  I  shook  my 
head  with  covert  warning. 

"Ever  see  me  before — eh?"  asked  the  cub  harshly, 
as  he  waved  aside  the  cigarettes  Jenkins  extended. 
"Last  Wednesday  night — remember?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Jenkins,  hesitatingly.  Then  he 
rolled  an  eye  at  me  and  corrected  himself  hastily 
but  firmly: 

"No,  sir;  I  don't  recall  ever  seeing  you  before, 
sir." 

Of  course,  I  knew  he  had  not,  but  the  cub  got  up 
with  a  sour  laugh.  Then  with  a  murmured  gruff 
apology,  he  withdrew,  saying  he  had  a  headache  and 
was  going  to  bed.  And,  by  Jove,  what  a  look  he  gave 
me  from  the  door ! 

"Midnight!"  ejaculated  some  one  at  length,  just 
as  the  professor  finished  a  jolly  rum  but  interesting 
yarn  of  adventures  in  Tibet.  We  all  rose  and  I  was 
answering  a  challenge  of  Billings'  for  a  Sunday 
morning  game  of  billiards,  when  all  of  a  sudden  a 
scream  rang  out  from  somewhere  above.  Then 
came  a  greater  commotion — two  voices  raised  in 
rapid  and  excited  colloquy.  On  top  of  this  another 
scream,  louder  and  more  piercing — a  woman's  call 
for  help. 

"One  of  the  maids,"  Billings  hazarded.  "A 
mouse — " 


THE   CUB  347 

"That  was  Frances!"  I  answered  him  excitedly, 
and  we  all  piled  out  into  the  hall  and  peered  down 
its  long  vista. 

Down  one  of  the  dimly  illumined  angles  of  the 
great  stairway  a  white  figure  darted,  then  paused, 
abashed,  crouching  back  against  the  wall  at  sight 
of  us  advancing.  Above  her  sounded  a  man's  voice, 
and  even  as  she  screamed  again,  he  overtook  her, 
clasping  her  arm. 

"Frances — dear,  dear  Frances!"  he  cried.  "Are 
you  afraid  of  me?" 

And  he  threw  his  arms  around  her.  "Come  on 
back,  dearest!"  he  pleaded.  "You  have  been  dream- 
ing." 

And  under  the  light  of  a  great  red  cluster  of 
grapes,  pendent  from  the  mouth  of  a  grinning 
Bacchus,  I  recognized  with  horror  the  yellow  mat  of 
hair  and  freckled  face  of  Billings'  cub  brother.  On 
the  instant,  with  a  bull-like  roar,  Billings  sprang 
forward,  but  I  was  quicker  still.  But  fleeter  than 
either  of  us  to  reach  the  scene  were  the  two  elderly 
men,  together  with  Miss  Warfield,  the  housekeeper, 
and  a  couple  of  the  maids.  Frances  darted  like  a 
bird  to  Foxy  Grandpa,  and  then  the  figures  of  the 
women  shut  her  from  view. 

Billings  and  I  had  paused,  half-way  to  the  land 
ing.  It  looked  as  though  the  elder  Billings  was  am 
ply  capable  of  handling  the  occasion  now.  He  had 
backed  the  youth  against  the  wall  behind,  and  his 
language  was  of  a  kind  I  hated  to  have  my  darling 


348         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

hear.  Every  time  the  other  offered  to  expostulate, 
his  father  broke  out  again. 

"You  are  a  disgrace  to  an  honored  name!"  he 
roared.  "And  the  only  explanation  left  for  me  to 
offer  our  guests  is  that  you  are  drunk  and  don't 
know  where  you  are !" 

"Oh,  father!"  faltered  the  boy.  And  then  he 
turned  his  black  shrouded  figure  to  the  pale  marble 
against  which  he  leaned,  and  it  seemed  to  me  his 
very  heart  would  sob  away. 

"What's  the  matter,  dad?"  came  a  voice  from 
the  head  of  the  stairway.  "What  in  thunder  is  all 
the  row  about?" 

"By  George!"  gasped  Billings.  Everybody  looked 
upward — one  of  the  women  screamed.  For  there, 
slowly  advancing  down  the  angle  leading  to  the 
landing,  his  yellow  mop  of  hair  shining  above  the 
dark  collar  of  a  dressing-robe,  was  the  duplicate  of 
the  youth  cowering  under  the  elder  Billings'  wrath. 

And  out  of  a  dead,  tense  silence,  came  his  voice 
again : 

"Can't  any  of  you  speak?"  He  touched  the  figure 
on  the  shoulder.  "Who  are  you?"  he  asked  in  an 
odd,  strained  voice. 

The  black  figure  turned  toward  him  a  face  agon 
ized  in  grief. 

"I — I  don't  know,"  came  a  voice  pitifully — his 
voice,  it  seemed. 

The  cub  just  stood  like  a  statue  for  a  moment — 
stood  as  we  all  stood.  Then  slowly  his  hand  went 


THE    CUB  349 

out  and  touched  the  hand  of  his  double.  Slowly  his 
fingers  swept  the  face,  the  hair;  gradually  his  eyes 
closed,  as  though  he  were  sensing  by  touch  alone. 

Suddenly  a  loud  cry  leaped  from  his  throat. 

"Sister!"  he  shouted.  And  he  swept  the  black 
figure  to  him. 

Then,  tossing  back  his  head,  the  youth  faced  us 
with  blazing,  angry  eyes,  looking  as  David  must 
have,  when  he  faced  old  what's-his-name. 

"If  there's  a  man  among  you,  I'd  like  to  know 
what  this  means  ?"  he  cried. 

There  was  a  blank  silence  for  an  instant,  and 
then — 

"Perhaps  I  can  explain,"  said  a  voice. 

And  up  the  stairway  advanced  Professor  Doozen- 
berry. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

IN    THE    GLOW    OF    THE   RUBIES 

EVENING  had  come  again. 
In  fact,  it  was  almost  bedtime.  Frances  and 
I  sat  before  the  hearth  in  the  library,  looking  silently 
into  the  red  heart  of  the  dying  embers  of  fragrant 
pine  cones.  For  in  the  heights  of  the  Pocantico  Hills 
it  often  is  chilly  on  summer  nights. 

My  darling  sat  on  a  low  fauteuil,  her  chin  resting 
upon  her  hand,  her  beautiful  eyes  fixed  dreamily, 
inscrutably,  upon  the  fading  coals.  In  her  lap  lay 
the  spread  of  the  crimson  pajamas. 

She  was  thinking — thinking — I  wondered  what! 
And  I  was  thinking  how  jolly  rum  it  all  was ;  that 
Francis  wasn't  Frances,  that  the  professor  wasn't 
Billings,  Colonel  Francis  Kirkland  wasn't  Foxy 
Grandpa  and  wasn't  the  frump's  father  after  all ; 
and  that  the  frump,  herself — bless  her,  her  name 
was  Elizabeth — wasn't  Frances,  and  wasn't  a  frump 
at  all,  but  just  a  jolly,  nice,  homely  old  dear,  you 
know.  And  I  was  trying  to  catch  and  hold  some  of 
the  deuced  queer  things  the  professor  had  discoursed 
upon  about  ancient  Oriental  what's-its-name,  and 
astral  bodies,  obsession,  psychical  research  and  all 

350 


IN    THE   GLOW   OF    THE    RUBIES      351 

that  sort  of  thing.  Somehow,  dash  it,  it  had  all 
seemed  devilish  unreasonable  and  improbable  to  me 
— couldn't  get  hold  of  it,  you  know;  but  as  every 
body  else  had  said  "Ah-h-h !"  and  had  wagged  their 
heads  as  though  they  understood,  I  just  said :  "Dash 
it,  of  course,  you  know!"  and  recrossed  my  legs  and 
took  a  fresher  grip  on  my  monocle. 

The  most  devilish  hard  thing  to  get  hold  of  had 
been  that  Frances  had  never  sat  on  the  arm  of  my 
Morris  chair,  had  never  told  me  she  liked  me  better 
than  any  man  she  had  ever  met,  and  had  never  called 
me  "Dicky"  at  any  time  or  anywhere.  I  wondered  if 
she  ever  would,  and  how  the  deuce  fellows  went 
about  it  when  they  proposed  to  the  girl  they  madly 
loved.  I  was  devilish  put  out,  you  know,  that  I  had 
never  tried  it  so  I  could  know. 

From  across  the  hall  droned  the  voices  from  the 
smoking-room — Colonel  Kirkland  and  the  judge  de 
bating  something  about  treaty  ports  and  the  Man- 
churian  railway.  Through  the  French  windows 
from  the  open  loggia  came  the  eager,  pitched  tones 
of  the  professor  and  the  frump — no,  Elizabeth,  I 
mean — discussing  Aldeberan  and  Betelguese,  dead 
suns,  star  clusters  and  the  nebular  hypothesis. 

Within  the  room  Billings  had  snapped  out  the 
lights,  to  bring  out  the  blazing  fire  of  his  treasured 
ruby,  and  from  the  tray  in  the  dark  corner  where  he 
was  closing  it  in  his  collection  vault,  it  gleamed  like 
the  end  of  a  bright  cigar.  The  other  four  were  ab 
sently  clutched  in  my  darling's  hand  and  the  crim- 


352          THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

son  shine  gleamed  bravely  through  her  ringer  bars. 
"Carbuncles — ancient  carbuncles,"  the  professor  had 
called  them,  "that  the  Chinese  believed  their  dragons 
carried  in  their  mouths,  in  their  black  caves  in  days 
of  old,  to  furnish  light  whereby  they  could  see  to 
devour  their  victims."  And  that  I  believed,  for  I 
could  see  some  practical  sense  about  it ! 

"What  /  should  like  to  know,"  said  the  dear, 
precious  cub,  hugging  his  knee  by  the  mantel,  "is 
where  7  come  in !" 

"You  don't  come  in,"  said  Billings,  lifting  him 
playfully  by  the  ear;  "you  come  out!"  And  out  they 
went. 

And  my  dear  girl  and  I  were  like  what's-his- 
name's  picture — alone  at  last,  you  know.  She  stirred 
softly  and  her  sigh  came  like  the  wind  through  the 
trees  at  night. 

"I  suppose  we  will  have  to  burn  them,"  she  said 
dolefully;  "the  professor  says  it  is  the  only  thing 
to  do." 

"Jolly  shame,  I  say!"  I  murmured  indignantly. 

"It  seems  a  crime,"  she  said  softly,  and  there  was 
a  little  choke  in  her  voice.  She  slipped  to  the  soft- 
fibered  rug  before  the  fire.  I  gently  brought  my 
chair  closer  to  her. 

For  a  moment  she  pressed  her  cheek  against  the 
crimson  mass,  then  kneeling  forward,  laid  it  gently 
on  the  glowing  coals.  There  was  a  flash,  a  lightning 
blaze  of  red  that  almost  blinded  us,  and  then  for  a 
brief  space  a  field  of  shining  ash.  Against  this  the 


IN   THE   GLOW  OF   THE   RUBIES      353 

tiny  serpent  frogs  writhed  and  twisted  and  turned 
at  last  to  leaden  gray.  Over  the  spread  of  all,  swept 
wave  after  wave  of  golden,  crimsoned  pictures — 
temples  and  pagodas — dragons  that  licked  fiery 
tongues  at  us — strange  faces  that  came  and  went, 
leering  hideously  into  our  own. 

And  then  of  a  sudden  it  was  all  faded — gone! 
The  breeze  from  the  open  window  stirred  the  ashes 
to  the  side.  She  dropped  back  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"They're  gone,"  she  breathed  mournfully. 

"Never  mind,"  I  said;  "you've  these  left."  And 
daringly  I  laid  my  hand  upon  the  one  that  clasped 
the  rubies.  And  I  thrilled  as  it  lay  still  beneath  my 
own. 

"Good-by,  you  dear  old,  wicked,  enchanted  paja 
mas,"  she  said.  "I  don't  care — I  just  love  you,  be 
cause — "  She  paused. 

"Because  they  brought  us  together?"  By  Jove, 
I  didn't  know  I  had  said  it,  till  it  came  out ! 

An  instant,  and  then  I  caught  it — just  a  little 
whisper,  you  know : 

"Yes— Dicky!" 

By  Jove !  And  then,  dash  it,  my  monocle  dropped ! 
But  I  let  it  go. 

Presently  she  looked  at  the  glowing  rubies  in  her 
hand. 

"They  are  from  India,  you  know,  Dicky — from 

Mandalay,  the  professor  said."  And  she  murmured: 

'  'On  the  road  to  Mandalay,  where  the  old  flotilla 

lay' — don't  you  remember?  I've  been  there,  Dicky." 


354         THE    HAUNTED    PAJAMAS 

"By  Jove!"  I  said.  "Have  you,  though?  Is  it 
jolly?" 

"The  poet  seemed  to  think  so—  She  laughed. 
"Do  you  know  Kipling,  Dicky?"  I  tried  to  think, 
but  dashed  if  I  could  remember. 

I  wondered  if  it  would  be  a  good  place  to  take  a 
trip  to ! 

I  hitched  closer.  "What  does — er — this  poet  chap 
say  about  it  ?  What's  it  like,  you  know  ?" 

She  laughed.  "I'm  afraid  it's  wicked,  Dicky,  a 
good  deal  like  the  haunted  pajamas."  She  leaned 
forward,  chin  upon  her  hand  again,  looking  into  the 
fading  coals.  "I'll  tell  you  what  he  says." 

Then  her  voice  went  on : 

"Ship  me  somewhere  east  of  Suez,  where  the  best  is 

like  the  worst, 
Where  there  aren't  no  Ten  Commandments  an'  a 

man  can  raise  a  thirst." 

"By  Jove !"  I  said,  interested. 

"For  the  temple  bells  are  callin',  and  it's  there  that  I 

would  be — 
By  the  old  Moulmein  pagoda,  lookin'  lazy  at  the 

sea." 

I  brought  my  hand  down  on  my  knee. 

"Oh,  I  say,  you  know — er — Frances,"  I  exclaimed 
with  enthusiasm,  "we'll  go  there  for  our  honeymoon, 
by  Jove!  Shall  we — eh?" 


IN   THE   GLOW  OF   THE   RUBIES      355 

And  then  the  jolly  rubies  rolled  unheeded  to  the 
floor.  And  nothing  stirred  but  the  ashes  of  the 
haunted  pajamas! 

And  then — :  Oh,  but  Frances  says  that's  all! 


THE   END 


TITLES    SELECTED    FROM 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAPS  LIST 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.       Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list 

A   CERTAIN     RICH    MAN.    By  William  Allen  White. 

A  vivid,  startling  portrayal  of  one  man's  financial  greed,  its 
wide  spreading  power,  its  action  in  Wall  Street,  and  its  effect  on 
the  three  women  most  intimately  in  his  life.  A  splendid,  enter 
taining  American  novel. 

IN    OUR    TOWN.    By  William  Allen  White.    Illustrated  by  F. 
R.  Gruger  and  W.  Glackens. 

Made  up  of  the  observations  of  a  keen  newspaper  editor, 
involving  the  town  millionaire,  the  smart  set,  the  literary  set,  the 
bohemian  set.  and  many  others.  All  humorously  related  and  sure 
to  hold  the  attention. 

NATHAN  BURKE.    By  Mary  S.  Watts. 

The  story  of  an  ambitious,  backwoods  Ohio  boy  who  rose 
to  prominence.  Everyday  humor  of  American  rustic  life  per 
meates  the  book. 

THE  HIGH    HAND.    By  Jacques  Futrelle.    Illustrated  by  Will 
Crete. 

A  splendid  story  of  the  political  game,  with  a  son  of  the 
soil  on  the  one  side,  and  a  "kid  glove"  politician  on  the  other. 
A  pretty  girl,  interested  in  both  men,  is  the  chief  figure. 

THE  BACKWOODSMEN.  By  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts.  Illustrated. 
Realistic  stories  of  men  and  women  living  midst  the  savage 
beauty  of  the  wilderness.     Human  nature    at  its  best  and    worst 
is  well  protrayed. 

VELLOWSTONE  NIGHTS.     By  Herbert  Quick. 

A  jolly  company  of  six  artists,  wriiers  and  other  clever 
folks  take  a  trip  through  the  National  Park,  and  tell  stories  around 
camp  fire  at  night.  Brilliantly  clever  and  original. 

THE  PROFESSOR'S  MYSTERY.      By    Wells    Hastings    and 
Brian  Hooker      Illustrated  by  Hanson  Booth. 

A  young  college  professor,  missing  his  steamer  for  Europe, 
has  a  rom.intic  meeting  with  a  pretty  girl,  escorts  her  home,  and 
is  enveloped  in  a  b;g  mystery. 

A.sk  for  compete  free  list  of  Of.   &  D.  Popular  CofiyrigJittd  Fiction 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26th  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


TITLES    SELECTED    FROM 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP'S  LIST 

May  be  had  wherever  boiks  are  sold.       Ask  for  Grossst  &  Dunlap's  list 

THE  SIEGE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SUITORS.    By  Meredith  Nich 
olson.     Illustrated  by  C.  Coles  Phillips  and  Reginald  Birch. 

Seven  suitors  vie  with  each  other  for  the  love  of  a  beautiful 
girl,  and  she  subjects  them  to  a  test  that  is  fnll  of  mystery,  magic 
and  sheer  amusement. 

THE  MAGNET.    By  Henry  C.  Rowland.    Illustrated  by  Clarence 
F.  Underwood. 

The  story  of  a  remarkable  courtship  involving  three  pretty 
girls  on  a  yacht,  a  poet-lover  in  pursuit,  and  a  mix-up  in  the  names 
of  the  girls. 

THE  TURN  OF  THE  ROAD.  By  Eugenia  Brooks  Frothingham. 
A  beautiful  young  opera  singer  chooses  professional  success 
instead  of  love,  but  comes  to  a  place  in  life  where  the  call  of  the 
heart  is  stronger  than  worldly  success. 

SCOTTIE  AND  HIS  LADY.     By  Margaret  Morse.    Illustrated 

by  Harold  M.  Brett. 

A  young  girl  whose  affections  have  been  blighted  is  presented 
with  a  Scotch  Collie  to  divert  her  mind,  and  the  roving  adventures 
of  her  pet  lead  the  young  mistress  into  another  romance. 

SHEILA  VEDDER.    By  Amelia  E.  Barr.    Frontispiece  by  Harri 
son  Fisher. 

A  very  beautiful  romance  of  the  Shetland  Islands,  with  a 
handsome,  strong  willed  hero  and  a  lovely  girl  of  Gaelic  blood  as 
heroine.  A  sequel  to  "Jan  Vedder's  Wife." 

JOHN  WARD.  PREACHER.    By  Margaret  Deland, 

The  first  big  success  of  this  much  loved  American  novelist. 
It  is  a  powerful  portrayal  of  a  young  clergyman's  attempt  to  win  his 
beautiful  wife  to  his  own  narrow  creed, 

THE    TRAIL  OF    NINETY-EIGHT.    By  Robert  W.  Service. 
Illustrated  by  Maynard  Dixon. 

One  of  the  best  stories  of  "Vagabondia ' '  ever  written,  and 
one  of  the  most  accurate  and  picturesque  of  the  stampede  of  gold 
seekers  to  the  Yukon.  The  love  story  embedded  in  the  narrative 
is  strikingly  original, 

Ask  for  compete  free  list  of    G.  &  D.    Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26th  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


JUN  0 1 1989 


AUG  2  8 1997_ 
Dirir'PIVE 


i  mi 

LIBRARY 


A     000127389     5 


